


Side Questing

by drpickles



Category: Original Work
Genre: A gaggle of adventurers just trying to save the world, Adventure & Romance, Drunken Shenanigans, Dry Humping, F/M, Fantasy Violence, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, High Fantasy, Idiots in Love, Oral Sex, Pining, Porn With Plot, Swearing, no beta we die like men, they still haven't saved the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drpickles/pseuds/drpickles
Summary: [A semi-parody of every RPG/JRPG trope I could get my grubby hands on] The life of a mercenary is fraught with dangers, especially when one has been tasked with helping a group of plucky adventurers save the world. However, the presence of big, sappy warriors helps make the journey a little easier.
Relationships: Mercenary Just Trying to Do Her Best/Non-Human Warrior that Already Thinks She's the Best, Original Female Character(s)/Original Non-Human Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. What's a Little Bloodshed Between Friends?

**Author's Note:**

> good luck. this was my first attempt at writing anything in years.

They never did properly explain what to expect when saving the world, but surely there shouldn’t be this much questing on the side. Granted, the small group of eight needed all the help they could get. They had a colossal undertaking, but there had to be some point when saving lost children in cursed woods and working part-time in the taverns for pocket change had to stop, right?

Lamia, as conventional as a mercenary gets, stood proudly beside war heroes, and magicians, and a princess, and a fucking towering warrior with horns popping out the front of his head. They were in the thick of it—together fighting against a common enemy. That’s how the recruitment speech from their esteemed leader went, in any case.

Unfortunately, Lamia felt neither veneration nor strength enough to topple a distant villain, as she was currently surrounded by a flock of sheep. The woolly masses only made it up to her thighs yet seemingly they went on forever. She was supposed to be tracking the footprints of a nuisance wolf, but the flock had other plans for Lamia, making her their beacon of armor in this autumnal landscape. Was it the fur lining her jacket? Did they think she was just a very messy looking sheep?

Lamia stomped forward, shoving at as many sheep as she could, and feeling nothing but the sink of her hands into clouds of wool.

This was fine, she thought vaguely. Maybe the wolf will come back around after sundown and tear a path through the sheep for her.

There was a noise down the fields, closer to the barns and water troughs. Lamia looked over and spotted Vivienne, one of her fellow adventurers. Viv called out, holding a pail of something and banged along the rim. The sheep seemed to like what they heard because there came a shift in the woolen tides. Lamia had to hold her ground against the surge, but eventually she was free from the sea of fleece.

Now she was free. Free to purvey the field of shit before her.

Lamia adjusted the bow and quiver strapped to her back. Well, better get this over with, she thought, as she began her search for mutts or otherwise.

What was meant to be a wolf or two turned out to be five dirge wolves, cursed beyond compare, and huge as shit. They howled into the musky air of their den, the warbling death knell giving Lamia goosebumps up and down her arms. It was a spot of luck that Viv, their plucky little healer, was the one to go with her. Lamia had no idea how the things didn’t just devour the sheep well before the group had set foot in this sleepy little hamlet, but one of the smaller ones had gotten hold of Lamia’s arm and ripped into it like a chew toy. Her short sword eventually found its way into the wolf’s skull, but, mate, that was a rough one.

Viv didn’t seem wholly upset as she patched up Lamia; whistling a tune, five dirge wolf bodies surrounding them.

“Good job saving the flock, mercenary,” Viv said. “You almost did it without messing up.”

Lamia wanted to smack Viv upside the head, but then there was Lamia’s arm. It was only slowly sewing itself back together, the muscles regenerating and chunks of wasting flesh falling from her mangled arm.

Maybe later.

Once Viv had Lamia’s magically healed limb nice and snug within clean wrappings, they stumbled back to the shepherds for their pay. It was not nearly enough for the trauma and effort of downing five dirge wolves, but their leader was adamant on helping the little hamlet’s people as much as possible. Something about keeping the people safe, doing what was right and just and he was probably trying to bed the mayor’s daughter, or something equally as stupid.

If their leader didn’t have that whole ‘saving the world from evil incarnate’ fate going for him, Lamia was sure she would have killed the man by now.

Viv gave her woolen friends a parting 'good-bye' as they headed to the town’s tavern. It should be about that time when everyone was wrapping up their own tasks, Lamia thought.

The tavern was small, for a small town, and didn’t have nearly enough space for seven heavily armed adventurers plus the usual patrons. Lamia did not count Thorgo, the big Bull man that accompanied them, at all. There were few taverns outside of his homeland that had doors big enough to let him through, the poor guy.

It was still light out, the usual patrons were minimal, and the work staff busied themselves to prepare for the night. The fireplace in the corner lit up the room with a warm coziness, not too sweltering but just the right touch of too close to the tables and chairs to make you feel unsafe. Off in a corner were Nyx and Flyx, two siblings that spent their time following the group all too closely to sell some wares, but somehow managing to stay far away from any combat. They waved pleasantly to the two entering women, and returned to their ledgers just as quick.

Viv shot over to the bar immediately.

“Anything for a parched throat?” she asked. Her short stature and robes screamed child, yet the crow’s feet belied her true age. Something she was all too happy to beat the shit out of you for, if you pointed it out. The barkeep grumbled, yet he still reached for a bottle of something dark. Lamia assumed Viv had proven herself a fine customer—she held her drink well and always had the coin to pay her bill.

Lamia slunk up the stairs of the tavern to where their rooms waited. The tavern housed three rooms with a single bed each. Definitely not enough to house all eight of them, so there were curious sleeping arrangements to be had. Thorgo stayed outside—his size making it an impossibility for him to sleep on the floor without taking up too much space, let alone on one of the tavern's tiny beds. The princess wanted a room for herself and her lady knight, and despite the leader’s best efforts to join them, they got their own room. Lamia and Viv got another room—sleeping on the floor was the least of Lamia’s worries, therefore Viv got the bed without a fight. That left three grown ass men to fight over the pillows and blankets in the last room. Or, maybe they sucked it up and cuddled, who knows.

When Lamia entered the room she shared with Viv, she saw a small package laying on the freshly made bed. A scrap of parchment with a handwritten “Lamia” laid on top. Before she touched it with her grimy little hands, Lamia set to taking off her soiled armor and using the small wash basin to rid herself of as much dirge wolf fluids as she could. With a clean tunic and soft doeskin pants, she was ready to face the day. Or, night, she supposed. She left her bow, but kept a sizable dagger strapped to her side, for those special little moments. With that behind her, she tore away at the package.

It was a cloak—probably a replacement for the one she lost in the dunes some nights ago. A sacrifice to the burning blood of a thrall, Lamia shook her head sadly. That means this is probably from Thorgo. She told him she would replace it herself, but it looks like he couldn’t keep those well-intentioned horns to himself.

She set it beside the rest of her things, folding it perhaps a touch more neatly than she normally would, and nowhere near the fur-trimmed leather she needed to have cleaned up. Maybe Ignaceus will use his magic and make the blood disappear again, if she can gross him out enough with it.

Lamia aimed for the stairs, a little skip in her step, but stopped just before she walked into a wall of steel. Markus was a big lad, not nearly as big as Thorgo, but he certainly had a heft to him that made him a perfect wall between Lamia and sharp, pointy teeth. It was too bad he was such a horny bastard, since he had the whole ‘fated hero’ thing going on.

“Oi, Lamia, watch it,” he groused. Oof, she looked at the gash across his face. Knocked a good bit of beard off, too, so he’ll probably be shaving tonight if he doesn’t want to look crazed.

“Rough fight, eh?” Lamia patted his arm.

“Heard you got chewed up by some dogs,” Marcus replied, not answering her question at all. His mission must have been not nearly as easy as he thought it was going to be.

She showed him her wrapped up arm proudly. “Five dirge wolves, all by myself. Viv watched while she pat some sheep, I guess.” Markus rolled his eyes but eventually he seemed to relent and forgo his weird sense of pride.

“Some bandits in the area were attacking travelers,” Lamia nodded for him to continue. “They were also bears.”

She quietly mouthed ‘Were-Bears?’ his way. If they were the jacked up shits that they spotted while traveling towards the hamlet, she didn’t blame him for the slip up. They looked ferocious.

“Well, good on you. Going to make a fur coat?”

That got a laugh from Markus. “Not likely, unless you like your coat to be patchy and riddled with fleas.”

“It’ll be perfect for you, Markus,” she said, and promptly dodged his hands. Can’t let those get a hold on her, lest he be in for some missing fingers. She waved him off as she returned downstairs, saying a cheerful, “See you later!”

It looks like the princess was back with her lady knight in tow. They sat together at a table close to the fireplace, enjoying their dinner. When the princess caught her eye, she smiled happily.

“I heard you did a wonderful job with those wolves,” she said. Guwen motioned for Lamia to join her and Yao. Lamia sat with them, though the dishes full of food tempted her, despite it being mutton.

Again.

They talked for a time. The sun was setting when the beanstalk walked through. Iggy-Iggles-Iggable-Iggums. So many names for the wicked mage that looked around the room like he wished he could be anywhere but.

“Heyyyy, Iggy,” Lamia drawled out, wiggling her fingers toward the mage. She got a look that insinuated he wished she would, perhaps, perish for her trouble.

He had a pretty face, nice to look at and dark complexion, but it was too bad about his attitude, Lamia thought.

He walked over to the trio. “The bull is waiting outside.”

Lamia hopped out of her chair, smacking her hands together. They usually ate together. “Oh, thank the gods, I am _starving_ ,” she celebrated.

She asked for two heaping plates and two mugs from the waitress. Ignaceus took her seat while she waited. Carefully, she grabbed the offered plates and mugs with both hands and managed to open the doorway to outside with a strong whack from her hip. The mugs sloshed a little booze, but she was quick to lick away the trail. It was cool out and the sun had already set—the perfect time for a warm meal and some alcohol.

Thorgo was sitting off to the side on a pile of wooden crates, Phoenix standing nearby and lightly conversing with him. She saw the sway of his tail off the side as Thorgo noticed her coming. He waved her over with one big, muscular arm. Phoenix, standing tall in his light armor, nodded to her as she ambled over. She placed the plates and mugs down on a nearby crate before slapping both of their arms.

“So, how was the hunt with Ignaceus? Did he cry?” Lamia asked with good humor.

Thorgo smiled at her, already starting to chow down on his meal.

“He was perfectly reasonable,” was Phoenix’s boring response. The old guy could fight, but he had a lot to learn about making a joke. Or even knowing what a joke was. Still, Lamia nodded along.

“Good for him, good for him. Anyway, go get dinner, and don’t be too surprised when you see the culinary risks they made tonight with their mutton,” Lamia hopped up on the edge of another crate, getting herself comfortable.

He stared at her, her words sailing far and away from him. Thorgo huffed around a forkful of food, apparently trying to laugh but not finding it funny enough to choke to death. Phoenix bowed before he walked off, probably itching to take off his blood-splattered armor, too.

Lamia turned her attention to her absolute favorite adventurer. In so far as she could tell; Thorgo, Phoenix, and Ignaceus had the hardest task today, but they all seemed relatively untouched. Even the gold dangly bits of jewelry hanging off of Thorgo’s horns were squeaky clean.

“So, how was hunting a dragon?” Lamia asked, as if she was asking someone for their favorite part of a book.

Thorgo had a good-natured grin on his handsome face. Decidedly less bull than Lamia first thought it would be, when the group decided they would go to the warriors in the north to find some muscle. Though, Lamia considered, he wasn’t frugal on the muscle. Lots of that. Top-notch stuff, too.

“It was more difficult than five dirge wolves, but apparently not as awful as a coven of were-bears,” he said around a mouthful of mashed potato. Disgusting. But, then his ears wiggled a little, jingling the piercings that hung from them, and Lamia was beside herself. She coughed around a gulp of booze, trying not to laugh.

He asked her about her own hunt, dividing his attention equally between shoveling as much food into his mouth and listening to her gore-filled quest. When she showed him her bandaged-up arm, his smile tilted off to the side. Probably thinking about how cool of a scar it would have made, Lamia thinks. As time passed, the tavern started to bubble over with noise, as eager patrons entered for a drink or two or six. Some customers even came back outside for a good breath of the chill night air, but definitely not to get a good, long look at the giant warrior with gold-laden horns. Absolutely no rubberneckers in this little village.

“Oh!” Lamia slammed down her mug as a memory of the cloak sprung to mind. “Was the cloak from you?”

Thorgo’s smile reappeared tenfold, looking all the part of an eager child looking for praise, “Do you like it?” One of his ears perked forward, from underneath his horns, for her reply.

That didn’t and yet did answer her question all at once. “It’s lovely, but I think it costs more than ten of my old cloaks combined. You’re going to have to give me time to pay you back.”

He waved her off, “No payback necessary. It was my fault the old one got ruined, anyway.”

“I mean,” Lamia touched her chin lightly, “Not really. A thrall’s gonna thrall—better its blood fall than mine. When did you get it? We’ve been on the road for weeks.”

Thorgo shrugged one of his big shoulders, apparently having finished his whopping plate of food in record time.

“You want the rest of my mutton? I think I’m sick of the stuff,” Lamia tried to dish off more food for him, but he waved her off while he stood for a stretch.

Gods, but did she want to climb him like a mountain.

Lamia felt a flush rush over her. The Kusarikku got a lot of gossip as a monstrous people, called things like Bull Men or the like, but they honestly looked more man than bull. There were the horns and the tail, sure. And the ears were a tad bovine. And his skin looked rough to the touch. And _the tongue_.

But, like, Lamia was down.

She almost stabbed herself with her fork as she tried to eat. Lamia herself wasn’t a small human—lean muscle and above-average height. She made a decent enough merc, for how good she was at stabbing things. But, she maybe made it up to his chest. Maybe. On a good day.

The door to the tavern opened and Thorgo’s horn ornamentation jangled as he looked over. Markus called out that they’ll have a brief huddle before they rest for the night. He looked freshly shaven and the cut over his face was healed nicely. Thorgo called back his assent and turned to Lamia with a sweet little grin on his face.

Ah, she thought, he was far too handsome.

* * *

There was one last favor the little hamlet had of the group.

The old mines, which turned out to be old ruins, which turned out to house ill-begotten treasures, was turning into a dangerous spot for the locals and travelers. If the group could flush out the old mountain and its accursed passageways, well, wouldn’t that just make the lives of every pissant from here to Norvern Way just that much easier?

Markus had better be getting more than his dick sucked for the shit they were doing.

With newly cleaned armor and her sword sharpened to a deadly glint, Lamia was decidedly not excited about mines. The last mine they went through had rats of unusual size and rotting, maggot-infested zombies. And, when the rats started eating the maggots… Lamia did not suppress the shiver that overtook her. Awful.

They split into two groups. Lamia stood with Viv, Phoenix, and Thorgo. Markus, Guwen, Yao, and Ignaceus prepared to follow a path further up the mountain. As far as the old maps showed, they would be able to pincer in whatever waited within the mine’s grungy core following these two entrances.

Lamia looked over their supplies: water was good, some food rations, torches (never forget your torches, even if you have a plucky little mage), and arrows. She tried to ask for the third time if Guwen needed any extra arrows, but the princess seemed to be getting testy about it, so Lamia kept it to herself.

Lamia’s group of four straightened up and began their descent into the mines. Ignaceus started them off with a trail of magic down the passageway, lighting up the tunnels with a blue-tinted glow. They would switch to the torches once the magic ended. Viv had more practical reasons to conserve her magic—such as keeping them all alive.

Even Lamia could tell the earthen tunnels were solidly built, despite the obvious aging. Instead of sweating about the very real possibility of being crushed beneath a mountain, she started to banter with her friends, because really what else do you do on an adventure?

Viv was just about to ask how Lamia’s arm felt, when the magical light seemed to make an abrupt stop into a wall of rubble. The path should go on, at least for a while.

Lamia snuck forward, eyeing up the dead end. Maybe there was a collapse, she thought, until she heard a tell-tale crack from the earth below her. Her body immediately meant to jump back, but the earth crumbled beneath her too quickly. Her arm shot out, hoping to catch on to something. She whacked into bare flesh, and Thorgo’s unmistakable hand latched onto her bicep to pull her back. Unfortunately, he was also twice her weight, and that caused the hole at their feet to only widen. They both plummeted to the bottom, the startled yells from Viv and Phoenix following them down.

Thorgo took the brunt of the fall—he was made of sturdier stuff than Lamia, so that was fine. She pushed up from the protective hold he had on her, careful to keep her away from the sharp points of his horns.

“You alright, big guy?” Lamia asked, situated quite snug on his belly.

“Yeah, you?” he blinked his eyes open and shook his head a bit, probably loosening some bits of rock from his horns.

“Peachy.” Then, Lamia yelled up the hole they fell from, only able to make out a thin line of the magic light they followed, “Viv! Phoenix! Can you hear me?”

“Lamia, I hear you!” Viv called back. “Phoenix is beside me, we fell too—hold on,” there was a moment of silence, then a little flicker of light burst forth a bit of a ways above Lamia and Thorgo. Viv seemed to be taking in her surroundings, Lamia could just barely see the tiny woman looking back and forth and all around her.

Lamia reached to her side for her pack, one of the torches should be in there. She nudged at Thorgo’s resting arm to move so she could dig through her bag, though he merely moved it to lay farther down on her thigh.

She got a hold of one of the torches. Leaning away from Thorgo as she lit it, not wanting to light his horns on fire, the room finally got a bit of light.

Lamia looked around her; these must be the ruins, as the hand-dug tunnels of the mines were no longer, and the walls seemed of sturdier stuff. Lamia noticed some of her arrows and things had fallen out, so she slipped out of Thorgo’s hold and carefully stood. While rubbing at a kink in her lower back, she cleaned up her fallen items. When Thorgo finally stood, there was a crackle of stone beneath him, and she could make out the faint indent of his body in the stone. Her eyes widened. Thank the Gods he’s resilient, she thought.

“Looks like ruins down here,” Lamia yelled up to Viv.

“Same here,” was the far-off reply. Some steps and then a slightly louder, “I think we’re a few floors above you.”

“Then, we’ll come up to you,” Lamia responded. Thorgo was busy rolling his shoulders to work out whatever kinks one might get from plummeting down several stories. Lamia checked over her equipment once more, made sure her bow was still strung tight and no other damage was had, before she turned fully to Thorgo.

He smiled down at her, “Ready to go?”

She nodded back, “Thanks for the save, big guy!” Thorgo’s tail swayed lightly in answer, and they began to trek down the only available way forward.

This was definitely a trap, Lamia recited in her head over and over as they ventured through the dark recesses of the ruins. There were snakes and giant moles and cursed, sentient armor that stalked after you with a vengeance even after you bolted a piece of it to the stone walls. Thorgo seemed happy to be Lamia’s meat shield, which was normally Markus’ duty, but it also meant she had to get creative in her aiming so she didn’t accidentally hit his long limbs, or any of the dangling jewelry he so proudly wore.

Eventually, they came to a divide—left or right. Thorgo inhaled deeply, his ears twitching this way and that, before he pointed down the left path. Lamia, a little confused, went along with it anyway. Did he just sniff out the exit? Can the Kusarikku do that?

“What was that?” she asked.

He hmm’d at her, curious for her to continue.

“Did you just sniff to figure out where to go?”

Thorgo laughed a bit, “Not that it did much, but I could hear something large and waiting down the other path, so the stairs must be this way.” Lamia made a light ‘huh’ at his answer.

“Is your hearing that good?”

“My nose and ears are a good bit better than what you humans have.” He looked over his shoulder, “Did you not know this?”

Lamia thought it over. Nope, no she didn’t. She just figured he was strong, but the difference between the Bull warriors and humans must be greater than she imagined.

“Well, then, I’m extremely glad I fell down this pit with you,” she tried for a light teasing tone, but it was a perfectly honest response as well.

His tail whipped lazily back and forth, signaling his good mirth.

Up two flights of stairs and some unknowable amount of time later, Lamia and Thorgo caught the faint light of Viv’s staff down a long hallway.

“Viv, you cheeky gal,” Lamia called out, glad to finally find them. They knew where the stairs were, now, the trek back should be a little easier. So long as nothing decided to return to life, or take the place of its downed brethren.

Viv and Phoenix were sitting down and waiting like good folks should when waiting for their friends in dark, dingy ruins. “About time,” Viv stood and patted her robes off. Phoenix righted the pack at his side. He had most of the food, and Lamia beckoned him over so she could have a dig through the rations.

Thorgo and Lamia refueled while Viv gave them a look over. Thorgo had some light scratches, but that was mostly from the fall and their encounter with a shitty mimic.

“We already cut a path to the stairs, so let’s make this quick,” Lamia said, wiping at a bead of sweat over her brow. Everyone nodded, though Phoenix now took the lead, to give Thorgo a moment’s reprieve.

As they walked, Viv sidled up beside Lamia, though her best bet would be to hide behind Thorgo’s bulk.

“These murals certainly are something, aren’t they?” Viv asked.

“Huh?” was Lamia’s bright response.

Viv merely pointed to the stone walls, making Lamia lift her torch up for a better view. They looked old, chipped away by time, but she could still sort of make out an image of a line of people dragging something to the mountain.

“It looks like it tells a story. Did the other floors have anything?” Viv piped up.

“Uhhhh…” Lamia had not been paying attention to anything that wasn’t Thorgo’s muscles or trying to kill her. “I can’t seem to recall.”

When they reached the stairs, Thorgo told Phoenix to go back down. This seemed odd to Lamia, so she asked, “Excuse me?”

“The point of us being here is to clear out whatever is in the mountains, so we should rid the ruins of that big thing down on the bottom floor, no?” the warrior reminded her, in good-spirits over getting the chance to fight something that Lamia was sure would be horrendous and a pain in the ass.

Phoenix seemed to agree, holding his own torch out a bit to look down the stairs. “Thorgo is correct, in this moment.”

“Great,” said Lamia, “Can’t get enough of the thrill of barely being able to see.”

Phoenix looked back, “Do you need another torch lit? That would be a waste of resources.”

“Phoenix… no-I,” Lamia sighed. “You are the biggest stick-in-the-mud I have ever met. When we return to a city, I’m buying you a whore.” Viv held back a laugh beside her, but Thorgo didn’t attempt to hide his laughter.

Phoenix just sent her a genuinely confused look. “Why? We already have Markus?”

Lamia’s voice rung through the ruins as she exclaimed, in equal measure hilarity and shock, “ _WHAT?!_ ”

The bottom floor greeted them with a new flux of enemies, joy of joys. Viv made sure to keep everyone’s spirits up as she watched from the sidelines and held on to Lamia’s burning torch. Lamia tried to make a more concerted effort to pay attention to the murals, but they looked like shitty ancient drawings to her. One was obviously a giant monster, but when was there ever not a giant monster at the end of the tunnel? She was mostly hoping there wasn’t a puzzle waiting for them before the giant monster—that was just rubbing salt in the wound, Lamia thought.

The other path that Thorgo inexplicably knew not to go down had a small descent of a few feet before it leveled out. It did this over and over again, until Lamia was sure they were deep within the belly of the mountain. She vaguely hoped the other team was having nearly as much trouble as they were.

There was a faint glow from an opening down some meters from where they stood. It wasn’t glaringly bright, but just enough for their eyes to make out the outline of an exit. The light seemed to flicker and shift. Lamia had a brief recollection of the day they spent in an active volcano. Awful times. If Thorgo had been with them, he would have suffered greatly with his thick, overly warm body.

As they neared, it was obvious the source of light was definitely moving. Like it was pacing. The glow was tinted orange, but there was no warmth to be had. A quick look over the edge of the exit was all Lamia needed to immediately wrench back. Her group looked expectantly back at her.

“Dragon,” she whispered. “Crystal dragon. Big, crystal dragon.” She moved her hands around, as if that would encapsulate the size of the monster, when they could merely peer past her and see for themselves.

Thorgo grabbed at his weapon, the legendary Moloch still taking the form of a short, thick metal rod. When he put a bit of his power into it, though, the mechanism that locked it into such a small, portable, and utterly useless form allowed the spear to extend and unveil the blade that could cleave through giants with a swish. He never brought it out against humans or small monsters that were just as quickly killed beneath the strength of his bare hands, but Lamia was certainly understanding of his use of it now.

Phoenix’s own weapon, the crackling thunder blade, was already alight in his hands. It was no wonder how the man became a legend—his stories sung by bards across the land even though he still walked the earth. From thief to hero, they sung, though Lamia guessed he wished they kept his past as a thief out of it.

Viv would be in the back, slipping her friends some tonics or the occasional healing spell, but she would ultimately be keeping herself out of the dragon’s range.

Lamia could use a touch of magic, to freeze her arrows or strike her foes with a zap of lightning, but she doubted she’d do much damage that way, not when the dragon was so big. Her sword was probably going to be useless against the dragon’s hide, too.

That meant she was going to be decoy.

They huddled up, went over their plan, and Lamia received the brunt of the ‘Don’t die’s’ and other similar well-wishes from her companions. So, this fight should be a good one, Lamia thought.

Lamia snuck up first, hiding behind rubble and pillars strewn throughout the massive hall that held the crystal dragon. Its eerie glow came from the collection of crystals that jutted from its body. She soon found that hiding was useless, as the thing didn’t have eyes—the crystals took those long ago.

Her first shot hit true, the arrow bursting into a small explosion at its nostrils. Thorgo and Phoenix were quick to tear into the dragon, shredding into hide and crystal in so much as they could. They expected it to be a long fight, but true to form, the arrival of a horde of hatchlings proved that this fight would not be easy, either.

Lamia was running low on arrows. She salvaged as many as she could from the corpses of baby dragons, but what she could use whittled down steadily. Phoenix had been knocked unconscious, which left Thorgo to take the brunt of the dragon’s sweeping talons and tail while Viv tried her best to get Phoenix back up. Lamia kept the hatchlings off everyone’s backs, but the sweat was starting to drip into her eyes and she had a tear running through the leather around her midsection.

Thorgo seemed to get a good hit into the dragon’s neck, blood pouring out like a waterfall. It made a pained, animalistic sound. Lamia gathered up another arrow, dousing a rag in a vial of putrification, and sending it straight into the gash at the dragon’s throat. The bubbling of flesh was immediate, but it would take time to spread. This at the very least meant the dragon’s time was limited. Unfortunately, as if sensing this, it reared its crystal-lined head back and shook the very walls with a thundering roar. Thorgo was right next to the beast, not expecting the wail, and he crumbled to the floor.

The dragon snatched him up in its jaws, though Thorgo took the chance to cleave a generous gash into the side of its mouth with Moloch. It whipped its head back and forth like a dog with a stuffed toy, and finally sent poor Thorgo crashing into a far-off wall.

“ _Oh, shit, Vivienne!_ ” Lamia yelled to the healer. Phoenix was upright, finally, but Viv had sent him to a corner—his leg too busted and requiring a focused hand that did not come easily in the midst of combat.

Viv shouted, all business, “Grab Phoenix, I’ll get to him!”

Lamia shot another arrow to keep the dragon way from Thorgo, but she followed Viv's instructions and sprinted over to Phoenix’s side. Viv was already beside Thorgo, looking at what could be mended. “Lamia, bring him here! Carefully!"

For Lamia’s part, she figured a little jostling wouldn’t kill Phoenix right now, so she lugged the man over her shoulders and trudged towards Viv and Thorgo. Lucky it wasn’t Markus and his heavy fucking armor, Lamia thought distantly.

“I request a strategic escape,” Lamia attempted a light-hearted joke at Viv. She would not look too hard at Thorgo’s body, ripped into by fangs and huge chunks of crystal jutting out along his right arm. Moloch was still held firmly in his left hand, though.

Viv seemed to be thinking along the same lines, however. “Right. Give me a moment and I’ll teleport us out of here.”

 _Waaaait a minute_ , Lamia thought. She was sweating and caked in blood and watching as the dragon sniffed about the room, desperately looking for its attackers. Good thing she messed up its nose first thing.

“Wait, Viv, no, you know your teleportation spell is…” but Viv was already glowing blue, lines of magic emanating from her small body as it grabbed a hold of all four adventurers.

Well, fuck.

The pull of magic was like a vaccum, at once feeling like just a moment they were one place and then they were in the next, yet also like the pull through space and time was infinitely longer than it actually was. Every time Viv did this spell, Lamia felt sick.

But, that wasn’t the true issue.

Beyond bleary eyes and while still holding Phoenix’s weight over her back, Lamia saw they were no longer within the mountain passageway, nor were they in the mountain. They were nowhere near the damn mountain.

Lamia thought, just before blacking out, this place looked an awful lot like the snowy town of Gingwikt: miles and miles and miles away from where they were before.


	2. Due Comeuppance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut at the very end of this part. I have it labeled with [+++], in case you'd rather skip it. Lots of spit involved. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

As it turned out, Viv did send them across the continent to the icy shores of Gingwikt. They had been here months and months ago, Lamia remembered, just before riding farther north and entering Kusarikku territory. Lamia had a thought that Viv sent them here on purpose, missing the strong spirits that the town had to offer, but she wasn’t about to raise the healer’s ire after she managed to save every one of their lives. It was what it was.

Phoenix made a quick recovery, his leg healing well with magical aid and leaving not even the hint of a scar. Thorgo, on the other hand, had to take his time.

A good thing about Gingwikt was the size of the town; being much larger than the little hamlet they just came from meant the clinic was bigger for it. When the group first entered, dripping blood and sweat and bits of themselves onto the floor, they had to shuffle around bedding to create a makeshift sickbed for Thorgo. It caused a little ruckus, but it was doable. And, Lamia was going to use up every gold piece she had if it meant Thorgo came out of this whole.

Viv ran herself ragged fixing the warrior up, but she did good work. Sitting next to the bandaged-up bull man, Lamia thought he looked infinitely better than he had even three days ago when they first arrived. The gold adornments on his horns were dusty and a little bloody. She wanted to take them off to clean them, but she knew neither how to take them off nor if it would be deemed ill-mannered of her. So, she tried wiping them off as best she could, gently and slowly.

And, that’s what he woke up to. She inched back a bit, and shot him a happy smile, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

His chapped lips opened a little, breathing in and out, as his eyes dilated and tried focusing on her face. Maybe she was a little too close, she thought, but as she sat back he only watched her retreating body with a kind of mournful look.

She looked him in the eyes, cocking her head a bit to the side, “Want some water?”

His ears twitched, and the delighted look that grew on his face probably meant that, yes, he would love some water. So, she grabbed him a cup and tried testing out his grip on his left hand. He held her pushing digits firmly enough, so she figured it was safe enough to let him hold his own cup.

He gulped it down, even though she pinched at his uninjured arm and told him “Sips! Sips!”

His pleased sigh and the wiggle of his ears cooled her down some, however. “Phew! I feel like shit!” was what he said. Lamia couldn’t help the laughter that poured out of her.

Viv and Lamia spent an afternoon touring through the town. Viv was meant to rest after days of slowly recouping Thorgo’s battered body. Lamia thinks that was meant as, like, literal rest-where Viv was in bed and sleeping. Viv seemed to have other ideas. She wanted sweets and liquor and those rum-doused balls of cake that lit up your insides like a toasty fire. Lamia paid for a box of those, as thanks for Viv’s efforts, but Lamia couldn’t handle the cloying sweetness herself.

“Your patient should be fully healed and ready to get into another fight by the end of the week,” Viv said to her, around a mouthful of chocolate.

“My patient? Isn’t he your patient?” Lamia asked, laughing a little.

The tiny healer waved her off. Viv said, “You’ve been coddling him so much and he’s been eating it up like a love-struck moron, so I figured you would miss it.”

Lamia perked up just a touch at Viv’s words. The tiniest hint of a flush blossomed on her cheeks, but she tried to play off the heat with a teasing tone. “ _Oooh_ , do you think he likes me?”

Viv gave Lamia the most unamused, withering look imaginable, her crow’s feet settling seriously in the corners of her eyes. “He is the most infuriating person when you’re not around and it drives me up the wall.” She took another bite of chocolate.

But, now Lamia was curious if they were talking about the same man. “Infuriating? Thorgo? He’s a giant puppy.”

“One that wants to splatter the ground with blood. You remember how he was the greatest warrior of them all, lauded and whatnot?” Viv waved her hand around like it was all just hearsay. As if Thorgo hadn’t had a good shot at wiping the group out almost the moment they stepped on his people’s land.

“Sure, until I stabbed him,” Lamia thought back to it. What a fun way to meet your best friend.

“Yes, you beat him, and now he can’t get enough of you.” Viv added, “It is positively disgusting.” And, sure, she said that with a deadpan look, but Lamia figured the older woman got her kicks out of it too.

“Alright, I understand, I will try to reign in my sordid displays of affection,” Lamia sighed dramatically. Then, she asked, “Has there been any news of the others?” Phoenix sent a message the first night they arrived in Gingwikt. It should have arrived by now, and Ignaceus had enough magical prowess up his ass he should have been able to send them a note or something.

Viv looked unconcerned. Her curly hair ruffled around in a particularly rough wind, showing the tips of her pointy ears. “They’ll be fine. Markus might be an idiot, but he’s decent in a fight.” She didn’t have to mention Yao or Ignaceus—those two could probably destroy armies by themselves.

Fair enough, Lamia thought. They spent the rest of their time out together people watching and sipping at their drinks. It was nice.

* * *

Later, Lamia could not remember how nor why she decided visiting Thorgo in the middle of the night was a good idea, but the simmer of latent feelings and too much alcohol probably played a big part. His area was sanctioned off from the rest of the clinic—if Lamia remembered correctly, they said it used to be an old storage room. Good enough for Lamia; she snuck in without alerting a single soul.

Thorgo was sitting up in his makeshift bed on the floor. He was awake, and seemed happy to see her, if not a little confused.

“You smell like a bar,” was his way of greeting. His nose scrunched up a bit. Yes, she might be a little drunk, but he didn’t have to say it like that, Lamia thought.

“Don’t be rude,” Lamia groused out, taking her time to sit beside him on the floor. She saw the movement of his tail beneath the thin blanket covering his lower half.

She sat back, letting her arms keep her upright. “Viv said you’ll be good to go in a few days,” she spoke quietly.

His eyes never left her person, a smile playing at the curve of his mouth, but Lamia wasn’t entirely sure he was fully focused on what she was saying. He clenched his right hand, flexing his arm a bit.

“Good, I’ve been bored,” he said.

She played a bit with being coy, though she was sure it didn’t come out the way she wanted it to, “Bored? While I’ve been waiting on you hand-and-foot?”

One of his ears twitched, not enough to have his piercings jangling about, but they glinted under the low light of his candle. “Never when you’re around,” he said it with a smile, but his tone held enough finality that Lamia knew it was heartfelt.

She smiled back at him. The simmer beneath her skin felt a little like it was bubbling up, washing over her body with happiness.

“So, what brings you here?” he finally asked.

Lamia hadn’t a clue, but she answered with what her gut told her was true, “I wanted to see you.” She said this with a shrug, as if there was no other answer.

His tail moved lazily under the covers again. He reached out his good hand, as if to say ‘Here I am’. Thorgo did not expect Lamia to reach out, as well, and take his hand in her own.

She leaned forward, the smile still on her face, as she brought his hand to her lips. “And here you are.” She pressed her lips to his pulse gently. She felt like his body was burning up, but knew it was just his natural body heat. Great for cold climates just like this.

His face seemed to flood over with joy. He leaned forward, hoping to coax her closer with his captured hand. His muscles flexed and the bandages around his right side bunched up a little too much, so Lamia was simply forced to acquiesce to his demands. She crawled forward, and sat atop his thigh. The lazy brush of his hands around her middle pushed Lamia even further into his lap. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his tail whip back and forth happily. It was ridiculously endearing, and she couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped. At hearing the faint laugh, he nudged her nose with his own, making sure to keep his horns clear from her head.

“If you forget about this in the morning, I’m going to be so fucking pissed,” Thorgo said.

How thoughtful, Lamia thought wryly, and so she decided to reward his thoughtfulness with a kiss. That appeared to be exactly what he wanted, because she soon found herself enveloped even further in his large hands. Lamia could tell a difference in strength between his right and left, but he held her with such surety that she knew he wasn’t going to bow over in pain. She pressed flush against his bare torso, his width only ensuring that her thighs snugly hugged around his middle.

Lamia’s own hands started to tingle, restless and wanting to touch every bit she could. His chest, neck, jawline, those adorable ears. She even lightly touched the underside of one of his horns, but pulled away just as quick when she felt the cool metal of his jewelry.

For his part, he didn’t seem to care, all too happy to press their lips together lazily while feeling up her backside and flank. He seemed to like the muscles of her back flexing; he moved his palm greedily over them with purpose.

Lamia figured, if he didn’t mind before, maybe she could try again. One of her hands followed the curve of his horn, ever so lightly, until she reached the junction between horn and skull. His hair felt rough, a little course, but it fluttered so nicely around the base of his horns that she couldn’t help the little tickle she left. Thorgo grunted beneath her, apparently happy enough with her exploring that he pulled back to lick a long line from the bottom of her chin, dipping a bit into her shocked mouth, and over her cheek.

That fucking tongue.

She should probably be disgusted, but instead her entire body bucked against his at the feeling of his long tongue. He liked that. A lot. So, he answered with his own buck of the hips. The heat across her body began to concentrate in one very particular spot. This wasn’t the worst way this day could end, Lamia thought, and so she started up a steady grind that he was free to follow.

And he did, quite happily. He did have a penchant for sticking his tongue into her mouth at odd moments, but it was quick and fluttering and made her hips snap against his just a little harder. They moved against each other with steadily mounting excitement, but the whip of his tail against the side of her leg brought with it a moment of clarity. There were footsteps, then the faintest knock at Thorgo’s door.

Lamia ripped herself from their impassioned hold, though Thorgo did try to follow her, whispering repeatedly “ _nononon_ o” for the loss. She fell out of his lap and keeled over the side of the makeshift bed. The athleticism, the grace.

“Is everything alright, sir,” came the sweet voice of one of the clinic’s healers. A new girl with a good heart and gentle disposition. Lamia definitely wanted to throttle her right now.

Lamia never knew the blood-pumping exhilaration of launching oneself out of a window until that night. She made it, just in time for Thorgo’s door to be opened and the healer to ask if his wounds were giving him any problems. He replied, “No, just a dream,” and the girl made such a cloyingly sweet noise of understanding Lamia felt like she was going to choke.

Time to go to bed, she thought.

* * *

Lamia woke up the next day far later than she usually did. Not that the life of a mercenary was strictly scheduled, but she liked to think she made full use of her days.

Except the pounding in her head and the thickness of her tongue explained a lot of things. She grabbed her pillow and shoved her face underneath, blotting out the midday sun.

Then, she threw it off. Fuck, it was midday, Lamia thought.

She doused herself in the cold water of her wash basin to wake herself up, then pulled on a fresh shirt and pants that she had to buy days ago. She was meant to ask about a job or two in the town center, but they might have been snatched up already. She strapped her sword to her belt, just in case, and stumbled out of her room in the local inn.

Phoenix was waiting downstairs in the sitting area. She walked over to him because she knew he was waiting for her.

“Morning, Phoenix,” she said, trying to put as much energy into it as she usually did.

“Good day, Lamia,” he answered. He handed her a note, written in Ignaceus’ terrible handwriting. She knew he could be terse, but the note simply said:

_‘Norvern Way_

_14 days’_

“Was that just this morning?” Lamia asked. Ignaceus could send messages through magical means. It proved useful sometimes, but like with all of his weird tricks, the cons usually outweighed the pros.

Phoenix nodded at her. Alright, so that meant they had two weeks to cross half a fucking continent. Perfect.

However, Phoenix held up a hand before he spoke. “Could you tell Thorgo?”

That was an odd request, as Lamia thought Phoenix and Thorgo got along fairly well. “ _Suuure_ , but is everything alright?”

He shrugged, shaking his head confusedly, “He has been restless since this morning, and will not listen to the healers.”

He must be getting stir-crazy; Lamia could understand that. She nodded and handed the note back to Phoenix. “Alright, old man, I’ll be off.” She gave a sloppy salute and headed out.

When walking towards the clinic, Lamia couldn’t help a sense of déjà vu when she looked at the shitty little window off in the corner. She blinked a little, but proceeded inside. The healers nodded at her, looking for all purposes like a wave of relief just washed over them. Yeesh, Lamia thought, Thorgo must be bad. When she opened the door, Lamia was met with Thorgo standing upside down and lifting himself up in some sick and twisted version of a push up.

She couldn’t help but laugh out, “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

He grunted in the closest approximation to anger she had ever heard from the warrior. “There you are,” he said, as he righted himself into standing like a normal person. His loose pants were the only form of clothing he had on right now. Normal for him, honestly.

“You about ready to leave?” she asked, and any trace of irritation he might have had was gone. He smiled at her, clenching his hands before clasping them loudly together.

“Absolutely!”

Lamia noticed that Thorgo was exceedingly touchy today. Maybe it was from the joy of finally being free of that stupid room, and that was something Lamia could understand. So, she treated him to some food, and when he was done, she walked over to the town center to see if there wasn’t anything she could grab to fill the empty husk that was once her coin pouch.

She eyed up the ads for transporting goods, but that would require her to _return_ to get paid.

Lamia felt the warm presence of Thorgo’s palm against the top of her shoulder blades. She didn’t think too much of it, until his thumb began a light back and forth over the dip of her spine. That was a little too intimate, even for him. She looked up at him, confusion quirking her eyebrows. He looked like he was reading one of the job titles, but the twitch of his ear towards her showed he was paying more attention to her than he let on.

She decided she wouldn’t understand unless she asked, so she went for a lighthearted tease. “What’s got you all snugly today?” She nudged at him with the tip of her elbow.

His mouth quirked up a little, maybe looking a little sheepish, until he saw the genuine curiosity playing at her question. It made the bashful look slowly melt away from his face, and he was left just staring down at her. Before she could ask what was wrong, a person wrapped up in woolen clothing and looking snug as could be, came up to the pair.

“Excuse me, are you two mercenaries?” the man asked, his mustache wiggling as he spoke.

“I am!” Lamia turned towards the person with not a hint of a frown. He had a job and Lamia could smell the money wafting off of him like a seven course meal—the perfect combination.

* * *

Lamia returned to the inn with a marginally fatter purse and a marginally more confused head. The hangover was long gone, but when she last saw Thorgo he had stomped off like a petulant child. She knew he liked a good fight, but even he had to know he couldn’t go running after bandits after having to regenerate quite a bit of his insides. They would just fall right back out with a single good cut!

Though, taking the job did give her chance to steal a pretty prize from a group of hoarding bandits. She took one look at their stash of baubles and knew it was the perfect way to pay Thorgo back for that cloak. Though, a fat lot of good it was doing over in that little hamlet, Lamia rolled her eyes.

Viv and Phoenix were sitting together in the eating area at the bottom floor of the inn. Lamia looked around for her big warrior, but he was nowhere to be found. He must have his own room, now. This inn was at least big enough for him to walk around without being a fire hazard.

They spoke for only a moment; apparently, Thorgo was waiting for Lamia to join him for food. They were leaving bright and early in the morning, so no repeats of this morning. Lamia had a vague memory of being chastised by her parents just like this, but she shook the feeling off.

“Alright, alright. What room is Thorgo in?” Lamia asked.

“Yours,” Phoenix answered.

Lamia pictured his big body taking up the majority of the space. Reclined on the bed. Waiting for her.

 _Uh oh_.

When she opened her room door, she saw Thorgo casually sitting against the headrest, looking like he was dozing off. He nearly took up the entirety of the bed, which was pretty funny to Lamia, but she remained quiet. His ears twitched as she closed the door, so she knew he was awake.

“Hey, big guy, did you manage without me?” she tried for a light tease, but her smile wavered a bit when he locked eyes with her.

“How was the job?” he asked instead, because they both knew his day was boring as shit.

Her smile became a little brighter; she could use this to diffuse whatever agitated him so much this morning. She still had on her new shirt, lightly splattered with blood on the cuff, but nothing that would stop her from continuing to wear it. She flexed a little bit, trying for a goofy showoff. “No more bandits to worry about,” she said. She got a lazy smile for her efforts, so she decided to push onward. She walked over to bed, toeing her boots off as she moved, and crawled up on a part of the bed that wasn’t overtaken by Thorgo. She sat with her legs curled up beneath her as she looked through the small pack she kept at her side.

“Ah-hah!” she voiced triumphantly. She looked up at the warrior. He seemed transfixed on what she was doing and back in his usual good humor. Smiling, just a touch shyly, she clasped her gift to him in both hands.

“Uhm, I’m not sure what the standard for gift-giving is for your people, but when I saw this I thought… you might like it? It will look good on you, anyhow,” Lamia stopped herself before she rambled for too long. She held out her hands, and he held out one of his in response. She tucked the gift into his waiting palm, and immediately his face skewed up in a half-smile, half-confused look.

It was a gold necklace—meant to be looped around a normal human woman’s neck multiple times, but probably not for Thorgo. Three long golden rectangles were spaced apart by chains and interlocking loops, leaving the necklace decidedly walking that thin line between simple and ostentatious.

“You stole a necklace for me?” he asked.

“Well… think of it more like my fee for a job well-done?” was her answer. She felt a little overwhelmed by nerves, for some reason.

He tilted his head towards her, angling his neck so she had a clear view, and keeping his long horns out of the way.

Ah, Lamia thought belatedly, he wants me to put it on him.

She shuffled forward on the mattress, grabbed the necklace, and clasped it around his thick neck. It rested nicely against his sternum, and the gold really did look striking against his skin. She smiled a little and mentally pat herself on the back.

He stared at her as she stared at the necklace.

“Do you,” he began, “not remember last night?”

Lamia’s brain essentially flat-lined. She looked into his eyes, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

“I,” she began, watching his every move.

“You,” he nodded to keep her going, his ears flicking a little.

“Iiiiiiiii spent some time with Viv,” she decided to list off her day. “We went shopping and people watching. Came to visit you for a bit, came back to the inn, drank a little of Viv’s favorite absinthe-hhhfehgh.” Lamia slapped a hand over her mouth, a raging wave of shame flushing her cheeks a bright red.

“Never had that before,” Thorgo teased, but he looked like the cat that caught the canary.

“I got,” she finally spoke up again after a few minutes, “So. Drunk.”

He huffed out a laugh as he watched her squirm.

Shit, Lamia thought, she could feel a headache coming on. She tried rubbing at her temples to ease it away.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled out.

“For what?”

“For being a slut.”

“Did you rush off to fuck someone after you ran off on me?” he asked, though if he really thought that, Lamia guessed he wouldn’t be so carefree.

“No,” she said it so sadly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you while I was drunk, though.”

“You should kiss me whenever you wish. Preferably when you remember, hm?” When Lamia looked up, she saw the gentle swing of his tail. She couldn’t help the little frown on her face, but there was no doubt she was back in his good graces.

“You’re a master of emotional manipulation, aren’t you,” but she shifted forward to make herself more available to his incoming kisses.

He kissed her as well as he could given the haphazard turn of their bodies. He huffed a bit as he pulled back to try and coax her body closer. She relented, and slid into his lap once again. Lamia could hear the solid thump of his tail hitting the side of the bed, and it made her mouth quirk in a smile even as she kissed him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lamia could only vaguely recall the night before. She knew she visited Thorgo in the clinic, and they had spent a good amount of time… partaking. However, she didn’t remember him acting quite this enthusiastic. The lightest flick of his tongue against her lips had her pulling away, though it was entirely in amusement.

“You still haven’t eaten, right? Should we go get dinner?” she asked while still securely in his lap.

He huffed loudly through his nose at the distraction, looking for all the world like he’d rather eat her right up. He angled his head forward for another kiss without answering her. She let him press quick and loud kisses to the corner of her lips, on her cheek, and down her neck. Lamia felt a little girlish at how endearing it was to her, despite being a grown woman.

She pressed a hand up to the racing pulse of his neck, lightly stroking at his skin with her index and middle finger, before she pushed him away again. “Alright, big guy, I need you to use your words,” she joked.

The tiniest flicker of irritation crossed his face, but he immediately lost it, and took a firm grip on her waist to push her further down his lap and onto something very distinct.

She squeaked. The biggest grin spread over Thorgo’s face at the noise, and Lamia could hear the tell-tale thumping of his tail against the bed again. “I am hungry,” he drawled out, pushing her down and then letting her pull back up, starting up a rhythm. “But, I can’t quite place what I have a craving for.”

Lamia rolled her eyes at him. “Did you hear that one from Markus?”

He gave her ass a gentle swat, which for him, was none too gentle. It sent a jolt through her and made her grab a horn to steady herself. “Please, I beg of you, never mention that man when we’re together,” Thorgo pleaded.

Fair enough, Lamia thought. She adjusted her hold on his horn, curiously. “Do you feel anything when I do this?”

“No, just a little pressure until you get closer to my head,” was his answer, and from his lazy smile she figured he knew exactly what she was going to do.

Lightly, ever so gently, she brushed her hand down the length of one of his horns. She ghosted over the jewelry hanging from them and brushed against hair that concealed the sensitive juncture where horn met skull. Lamia watched as his muscles tensed, his stomach and hips rolling against her.

“I did this last night, too, huh,” she said mostly to herself.

“You can do it as many times as you like,” he told her, catching her other hand and pressing a firm kiss into her calloused palm.

“I’m not doing anything rude?” she asked, genuinely curious. She remembered his fellow warriors being particularly proud about their horns.

He snorted, smiling and pushing her hips down with one hand this time. “Rudest thing you did was leave me last night.”

She flexed her thighs around him, pushing down a little firmer. “I said I was sorry,” she groused out. Then, she pressed up against him for another kiss that he was only too happy to give. Both of his arms returning to wrap around her sides.

Steeling her nerves, after several long, closed-mouth kisses she flicked her tongue over his lips. Thorgo was immediate in his response, letting his long tongue slip out to meet hers. Oh, that was kind of weird, Lamia thought. She tried taking steadying breaths through her nose as Thorgo sought perhaps total dominion of her mouth. When her hips ground down roughly at a particularly sloppy lick, she received a harangued puff of air against her cheek.

She pulled away, a thread of spittle connecting them until she brushed it away in embarrassment. He watched her with blown wide pupils, not minding the fact he looked like he was drooling.

“Would you,” she said after a moment, blush splashed across her cheeks, their breathing loud in the relative quiet of the inn room. “Like to go a little further?”

The loud whap of his tail was an amusing answer, but he nodded dumbly anyway.

She pushed back and away. Poor Thorgo looked like he was going through some past trauma, but when she started unbuckling her belt, he was right back on board. She shimmied off of his legs and got to pulling her pants down. She laughed lightly as she said, “This might be easier if you’re on the floor, sorry.” He almost launched himself to the ground, on his knees and watching her shed her pants and underwear.

She stopped before she got too far, “Is this ok?”

“Yes!” Thorgo practically yelled.

Lamia lifted a finger to her chin, smiling over at him, “Is it ok if I want you to use your tongue?”

The thumping of his tail on the ground brought a genuine laugh out of Lamia as he actually yelled, “Yes!”

She swung her body across the bed and let him grab hold of her hips to scoot her closer to his face. He was almost haphazard with how he positioned her legs over his shoulders, but he was careful to keep her far away from his horns. Sweet boy, she thought, and then immediately stopped thinking as his tongue laved over her.

He held her in a vice-like grip, which was fine because otherwise her legs would be kicking out at the sensitivity. It had been, perhaps, a while since she had anyone between her legs. At least since around the time she joined the princess as hired muscle.

Gods, she needed to stop thinking, Lamia whined out as Thorgo’s tongue delved deep. His saliva left a sloppy path, and the sounds he made were akin to a starving man trying to eat up every last morsel. The slick press of his tongue always ended in a little flick upwards, teasing her clit and winding her muscles up tight almost without end.

This was going going to be over quick, Lamia thought. She arched her back, body trying to ride his face as the tension quickly became way too much. Her hands shot down, careful of his protruding horns, and she lovingly ran her hands through his head. On the scrape of her nails against the base of his horns, Thorgo let out a grunt. His tongue became more demanding, sliding into her deep and tongue fucking her.

Her muscular thighs, if they had their way, probably would have popped his head clear off. His hold on them was steady, though, so good for him.

“ _Oh, shit_ ,” Lamia whimpered. The coil of heat situated in her lower tummy clenched tight, then spread to every nerve in her body. She bucked minutely against Thorgo, riding out the waves. For his part, he took every bit of her orgasm as if it was the most delicious thing he ever tasted.

She fell limp to the bed, sweaty and breathing heavy. Thorgo didn’t seem to want to come up for air, but her steady push at his horns eventually had him relenting.

Her heart hammered away in her chest, the light buzz of her orgasm keeping her on the bed. When she looked down, Thorgo was licking at his lips like he just had a very messy, but very delicious meal. Perhaps, like he wanted seconds.

“How you doing, Thorgo?” she asked.

He shot a look over to her, pupils wide as hell and face looking a little proud.

She held her arms out to him, wiggling her digits at him lazily. He stood, his pants very obviously showing off his problem, but he bent over her prone body and let her wind her arms over his neck—careful of his necklace—to pull herself upward and place a sweet little kiss on his chin. Before he could move, she fell back.

“Hm,” Lamia sighed out, a hint of mischievousness in her eyes as she looked up at him. She tucked her legs back up on the bed, clasping them together. “Want to use my thighs tonight?”

Thorgo looked like he was about to start drooling again.

He quickly rid himself of his pants and underwear. The loose fabric didn’t do much to buffer anything, and the jut of his dick was well and truly soaked with precome. She would have to figure out how she was going to take him another night, his size and shape seemingly nothing like she’d seen before. She figured she should have expected it, since he wasn’t human.

While her thoughts wandered, he essentially had to get right back on the ground again to reach between her thighs. He shifted around, trying to comfortably situate himself, and pushed her around on the bed like Lamia weighed nothing more than a paperweight.

Finally, on one knee and leg hiked up to touch Lamia’s side, he seemed happy with his position. Taking one of her legs in each hand, he slid against the sloppy wet folds, her orgasm adding to the sheen already on his dick. His tongue poked out of his mouth cutely, until the slightest dribble of spit came out along with it, and it was decidedly less cute. Lamia couldn’t do much but watch it drop to her soiled shirt.

She reacted by closing her thighs around him, against his wishes, and she earned herself a strange grunt-hiss. He clung to her legs, smacked forward with his hips, and started to piston back and forth like he just couldn’t take it anymore. The spit and sweat and precome guided his way much more easily than she thought it would. Good for him, Lamia thought, as the wild twitch of his ears caused his jewelry to jingle along with the sloppy smack of his strange skin on her own. A spike of heat raced through her when she realized the skin slapping against her hairy cunt was probably his balls.

She couldn’t keep doing this; not when they were at a busy inn, anyhow. So, she tried helping him along. She clenched around him as he pulled back, earning her a desperate thrust back between her legs.

“ _Oh, Thorgo, please_ ,” she tried very hard to hide the teasing tone in her voice, but it couldn’t be stopped when she saw the visible bolt of pleasure her voice shot through him. She smiled viciously.

“ _L-La-mia_ ,” Thorgo was grunting at this point. He seemed pretty beyond thought as he drove between her thighs maddeningly. He was leaving drips of precome between her thighs at the force of every thrust.

“ _I know you’re close. You can come_ ,” she whispered up at him. He grunted some more, clearly trying very hard to follow her orders. She tried another tactic, and she pat down the thigh resting up beside her. _“Love you, Thorgo_.”

That seemed to do the trick. He bit down on his lip as his hips started to stutter, he clenched her thighs into an even tighter vice around his dick as he pushed and pulled through an almost whine. He settled his hips as flush with her skin as he could and ejaculated a veritable mess onto her stomach. She quickly pushed her shirt as far up as she was able to, trying to keep his mess to a minimum. Curiosity quickly got the better of her, though, when she tried to tease at the ruddy, engorged head just a little with a curious finger, and his tail came up to give her a warning whack across her hip. Rude, Lamia thought.

It felt like it took forever for him to drain his balls, and Lamia’s stomach bared the brunt of his exertions. Slowly, very slowly, he relaxed his grip and pulled back to the floor. Lamia’s legs fell back to the bed. Vaguely, she could tell she was going to have a lot of bruises popping up in the morning.

“Big guy, can you get that dirty shirt over in the corner for me?” Lamia asked sweetly. His ears twitched lightly and he stumbled on auto-pilot to do as she asked.

He came back and handed her the aforementioned shirt. She thanked him and tried wiping away at the fucking sea of cum on her abs.

When she finished, she balled up the nasty thing and threw it to the side. It was ruined from their fight with the dragon, anyway, so it was merely a matter of time before it met its final resting place. In the trash.

When she finished, she motioned for him to lay down on the bed. She had to actually move, unfortunately, but eventually he was leaning against the bedpost and holding Lamia lazily to his side. She would only be able to do this for a bit, the itch of drying cum and other fluids making her desperate to be clean, but she figured he needed a breather after all of that.

“I think we should visit the bathhouses in a bit,” she told Thorgo faintly, her arm stretched over his stomach languidly and one leg curled over his thigh.

His eyes flickered open briefly, but he only held her closer.

Lamia guessed she would just have to grab food for him later and rested her own head against his side. This little side quest didn’t turn out so bad, she thought.


	3. Fishing for Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my heart said "how much mindless smut and fighting could you possibly write? we're done" but then the brain worms told me "a lot. just a whole bunch more" and so here I am again.

Knocking woke Lamia up. She was curled up snugly in a cocoon of warmth, and it took every last bit of her willpower to escape. It wasn’t immediate, but something itched at the back of her mind. Something was off.

Someone else was in her bed. Her shoulders hitched up in a spasm, but she quickly regained her senses. Right, Lamia thought, last night.

Although his body was too long and limbs stuck out over all sides of the bed, Thorgo looked well-rested and warm in the spot where he had slept nestled against her. Lamia noted that the only piece of fabric that kept his modesty was a thin blanket wrapped around his waist. She huffed out a laugh, and his eyes opened, blinking blearily in her direction.

They had to leave this morning, so Lamia hoped either Phoenix or Viv had the foresight to grab him some pants. As if making sure, she looked down at herself. Pants and a shirt. Good, she thought. Even though her sleepy past-self struggled, she would at least be able to open the door without flashing anyone.

The knocking was a little louder this time. Being relatively close to the door was a small blessing, so with three steps—tripping over forgotten boots while she was at it—Lamia opened the door and greeted her unwelcome morning visitor.

It was Phoenix.

“Good morning,” Lamia said with a decent amount of pep.

“Good morning, Lamia, Thorgo,” he nodded to the both of them, polite as polite can be. She couldn’t get a clear read on him, but… was that a twitch of his beard or was she seeing things?

“I hope you have all your things packed. Vivienne is waiting downstairs to leave.”

“I’m packed,” Lamia lied, sidling over just an inch to keep Phoenix’s eyes from roaming. “But, Thorgo might need some clothes. Or, he could go mountain climbing in the buff, I would be perfectly fine with that.”

Phoenix handed her a package that he had set to the side. Lamia took a quick peek in; replacement armor and clothing for Thorgo.

“Ah, good,” rang out Thorgo’s voice from behind her. “Hope what I had on me was enough.”

Phoenix nodded. “It was. I will see the both of you in 15 minutes.” And, with that, he turned and walked down the hall. Lamia shut the door behind him, carrying Thorgo’s bag to him.

“Hoo!” Thorgo laughed, grinning madly. “He was sweating bullets!”

“Really?” Lamia asked. “He looked normal to me.”

Thorgo rose up from his spot on the bed and stretched clear to the ceiling. He had to bend his arms away to stop from whacking against it. “Yeeup,” Thorgo sighed as his back popped a few times. “I could hear his pulse racing loud and clear. I don’t think he expected us to still be in bed.”

“Aw,” Lamia crooned. She faced her pile of things: new and old clothing, bandages, her pack, some new bottles of exciting and mysterious potions she got her grimy little hands on. Time to shove it all in her pack.

First, she dressed. Lamia slipped off her sleep shirt and rummaged for a bra and undershirt. Her jacket—heavy with inlaid chainmail and leather to keep her soft, squishy bits safe in the heat of battle—was clasped together in record time. She shoved as much as she could in her pack, save for clothes that needed to be trashed. Lamia looked over at the crusty lump of fabric that used to be her shirt. Disgusting.

As she busied herself with slinging on her belt and clasping her weapons securely to her jacket, she looked over at Thorgo.

His ears twitched. He was caught staring at her. But, the brightness of his smile didn’t show a hint of guilt. “You’re fast.”

Lamia flexed her arm, teasingly saying, “Years of practice.” She noted he was still only covered by that blanket. “Did you need assistance?”

His tail swished back and forth from beneath his covers. The muscles of his arms flexed as he moved, apparently thinking to say something coy to her, but the soft thunk of fabric against the floor bared all.

“Well, looks like you’re already halfway there!” she joked, smiling at him.

He rested his hands on his hips, not embarrassed one bit. If anything, he looked interested. “From what you said to Phoenix, I thought you wouldn’t mind me traveling beside you like this.” Lamia had to nip this in the bud quickly.

Scoffing, she said, “Get dressed, you scoundrel.” She picked up his dirty pants from last night and threw them his way. She got a jingle of his jewelry for her trouble, but he did start to dress.

A minute more and she had the pack stuffed full of her things. Her boots were on, and her bow and quiver were snug against her back. Looking around, Lamia spotted her sword resting close to the bed alongside Moloch in its puny form.

Thorgo no longer needed his bandages. The magic Viv used did wonders; not a scab or open wound in sight. The faintest blemishes in his inhuman skin hinted at the areas where fangs and crystal tore through. That would soon be gone, too, if Lamia knew anything about Viv’s abilities.

He was just finishing tying up his boots over a pair of light brown pants. Phoenix seemed to also have prepared a thick, leather war belt as an added layer of armor. Flaps of leather and wool hung down from the belt to cover his lower extremities. It was very Gingwikt-soldier as far as aesthetic sensibilities went. Though, Lamia thought, he looked good in it.

“Been a while since I wore armor meant for humans,” he said, more to himself than anything.

“Have to keep that cute little tail safe,” she joked, but at the mention of it, she did see the sway of his tail down along the backs of his knees.

“You do seem to enjoy my tail.” He looked over at her as he set to tying Moloch up securely at his side, hidden behind leather and wool.

“I enjoy every bit of you,” she admitted. Then, she decided to make sure of something. “Before we leave, I do want to make sure we’re clear on… some things.”

He handed Lamia her sword, which she took with thanks, and gave her his full attention.

“I would like for this to… be something,” she admitted.

His chest puffed up as he said, “Of course.” The knit of his brows was probably his way of saying he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, then the next thing: I do not want this to get in the way of our jobs,” she said. At the rise of his brow, she added, “I am a mercenary. I get into sticky situations. I get hurt. A lot. You, maybe less so, but still.” She made a vague motion at his healed over arm. “I don’t want you breathing down my neck on the battlefield. And, I won’t breath down yours. I know how to handle myself in a fight, and I won’t allow feelings to get in my way.”

For all the seriousness that overtook his face as he listened to her, the slow grin he sent her way was entirely predatory. “Lamia, you don’t have to worry one bit about that. The sight and smell of you covered in blood, striking down your foes with a desperation to survive, is one I _revel in_.”

The blood bit was a little unsettling, Lamia thought, but so long as he understood. She strapped her sword into her belt and knelt to grab her bag. She would throw that shirt in with the trash and they could finally be on their way. She tilted her head to the door. “Ready to go, or does your bloodlust need a moment?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

* * *

Viv stood beside Lamia as she dug through the fallen wooden corpse of a treant. Damn thing came at the group as they trudged through the swamp, splashing them with fetid water and just causing general havoc. She caught the glint of something precious and expensive within its boughs, though, and so she went to picking at it after Phoenix shoved a dagger deep within its heart.

Gingwikt was pleasant enough, surrounded by frozen lakes and pretty mountains, but the moment you stepped out of the area it was like the climate went haywire. The snowmelt and warmer weather meant swamps were plentiful. Not Lamia’s favorite.

“Didn’t think we would be trekking through here again so soon, eh, mercenary?” Viv asked pleasantly.

Lamia made a disgusted noise as she cracked back a few slabs of bark. The thing had toppled precisely over the treasure.

It was their third day on the move. It would take them three more to reach the mountains, and then the trek up and through Mount Clarel would take a while more. This journey would be so much easier if they could fly. Or, if Viv wasn’t so shit at her teleportation spells.

Phoenix and Thorgo went ahead to clear a band of Slimes. Good, because Lamia didn’t want anything to do with the damn things.

“What do you make of meeting back at Norvern Way?” Viv asked, suddenly. The tiny healer was perched on the dead treant, swaying her legs back and forth with not a care.

“Uhhh,” Lamia tried fishing between two smaller branches to see if she could sneak her arm underneath. “Half way between the continent; seems fair.”

“We were headed to the southern continent before we stopped by that village, so wouldn’t it make more sense to just meet back at the dunes?” Viv egged her on.

“I,” Lamia touched metal. Finally. “Do not know, nor do I care, so long as I am paid.”

Viv sighed. “That’s a bald-faced lie, even though it’s coming from a mercenary.”

Lamia stopped her exertions for a single moment to send Viv a deadpan look. Then, she held her breath as she concentrated on reaching for the treasure. She clasped her hands around it, and pulled back carefully. She retrieved a length of platinum mail. It was heavy, covered in swamp water, and smelled wretched.

“How do they get this shit?” Lamia asked, mostly as a rhetorical question.

“From other, less lucky adventurers,” Viv answered.

Fair enough, Lamia thought. At least she could clean and sell this.

As she slung the piece of armor over the fallen treant to get up, Lamia noticed the low position of the sun in the sky. “Shit, we’re going to have to camp in the swamps again.”

Viv made a noise of agreement, though she leapt off of her relatively dry seat. “If I remember right, there was an old altar a little bit ahead of here that we used last time.”

Right, that place. The old altar was just a small statue placed on the edge of a large rocky outcropping, but the solitude of the place gave Lamia goosebumps. Those places used to be for sacrifices to the Gods, or just ridiculously big monsters, but the lack of humans saw to it that the statue was overgrown from decades of negligence.

“Let’s catch up with the guys, then,” said Lamia.

They, thankfully, weren’t too far ahead. Even more thankfully, they had cleared out the stretch of land that was once overrun with slime monsters. Their goo and fluids tainted the swamp even more, however, making the water that hugged the small path an interesting mix of colors.

“Done playing in the muck?” Thorgo asked happily, one of his horns dripping with a mystery goo.

“Done covering yourself with strange fluids?” Lamia threw back at him, though it was hardly mean-spirited.

Phoenix was trying, and failing, at wiping down one of his daggers. He couldn’t switch to his thunder blade due to the swamp water; lest he wish to singe his allies as well.

Viv spoke up, “The old altar should be up ahead. Let’s make camp there.”

While Lamia scrunched her face up in distaste, Thorgo and Phoenix nodded and the group set off. The small, earthen path that traveled through the swamp was sometimes washed away, but previous travelers laid down haphazard planks to aid their trek. It made the journey less awful than it could be. Lamia took the front for a while, her eyes sharp enough to follow the path even as the sun plummeted down the skyline. The dense swamp was already a pain in the ass to navigate, as it were.

The first view of the rocky outcropping was an hour later. It was devoid of any other sentient life, just like it was the last time they walked through the swamp. Thorgo started gathering firewood as they moved closer, though it was difficult to find anything that wasn’t too waterlogged. Should have saved some of that treant, Lamia thought offhandedly.

They had no tent, not when all of their stuff was with the other group, so they laid out blankets on the cold, hard stone. Thorgo, amusingly enough, set his blanket closer to Lamia’s than he normally would have.

The group of four feasted on salted meats and a grain that Gingwikt was known for. It didn’t need water—just some fat and heat—and it puffed up into a filling side-dish. While sprinkling just a little more salt over her bowl, Lamia missed the roasted fowl and winter vegetables from town.

Lamia was taking the first watch tonight. Viv was already nestled on her side, using her pack and another blanket she kept as padding. In the middle of getting himself settled, Phoenix looked over at Lamia and Thorgo, but just as quickly looked away. They weren’t doing anything, Lamia thought, so she wondered what that look was for. Next to her, Thorgo leaned back against a column of rock. His ears twitched under her scrutiny, but his eyes were closed.

“Not going to lay down?” Lamia asked.

“Soon,” was his reply.

She pat his leg, earning her a lazy flick of his tail. She turned her attention back to the small fire they managed to keep going. May as well have a look around to see if she could find any sticks left by previous travelers. But, after getting to her feet, Lamia was stopped by Thorgo’s words.

“Be careful near the water, something’s been nosing around for a while.”

Well, Lamia thought, that’s certainly fun. She decided to take her bow and arrows with her, just in case.

The moon was visible from the rocky outcropping. Almost a full moon, it cast the swamp in an eerie glow. That statue off on the edge was still there and just as unsettling as it was last time. Goosebumps rose up along Lamia’s skin—she decided she would try looking elsewhere.

She took careful steps over the outcropping. Columns stuck up here and there, but for the most part it was easy to watch her footing. Lamia climbed up a sturdy set of boulders, wanting to see if she could catch a glimpse of anything in the swamp water from up top.

Squinting into the darkness, it looked like nothing was amiss. Just leagues of trees and the nighttime cries of the swamp’s denizens. Smelled awful, but that was to be expected. Out by the statue was a little pile of something. Was that always there, she wondered, but figured she just missed it.

Her climb down was relatively quiet, save for the softest “ _whoops_ ” she let out under her breath as her foot slipped on some moss. She caught herself, but Lamia almost swore she heard Thorgo give a soft snort from over in the alcove. The statue was just up ahead.

There was a slosh of water against the rocks below.

Lamia drew her bow in front of her, arrow knocked. Carefully, she stepped over to the edge. A quick look over and she was sure there was nothing.

Alright, Lamia thought.

Then, a glance to the left—facing the statue—had her locking eye to eye with a massive shadow climbing up over the edge. Dribbles of swamp water and what could only be the monster’s own particular brand of funk coated along the side. It smelled like death, and yet altogether familiar. A little fishy, one might say.

Ah, Lamia thought, it was a fish.

A huge fucking catfish.

After being spotted, the giant monster whipped out at her with its mucus-coated whiskers. The attack was quick, but Lamia was able to lunge herself to the side, rolling to safety and letting loose an arrow into its gaping maw. She vaguely noted that the space she stood in not even seconds before had splintered under the fish monster’s attack. A good sign of what was yet to come.

“We have company!” Lamia yelled, hoping Viv wasn’t too soundly asleep. To her credit, Viv did not let her age slow her down, and she was up and ready as soon as Phoenix and Thorgo were.

Thorgo had Moloch out and ready. He charged at the fish monster with the intent to skewer it straight through the eyes—an instant kill if it hits. But, because nothing in life can be so easy, the beast expelled a noxious wave of swamp water that halted all direct attacks.

The fight was a mixture of trying to not fall off of the stone outcrop and ‘don’t step in the goo’. Lamia had the unfortunate joy of letting a little hit her glove, and immediately feeling sickened by the rot and the smell. Viv actually had to use a remedy spell to rid her of the nausea.

When Thorgo finally got a solid hit into the side of the monster, rending through its gills with the point of his spear, the battle became easier. Lamia shot an icy arrow into the other row of gills while the fish gushed out a retaliation vomit towards the warrior. It was all Phoenix needed to lunge his daggers into the ice, shredding the monster’s vulnerable gills.

It choked on its own bile, making a cacophony of horrendous sounds. It was a little hard to watch, but the next cut Thorgo made was clean and true, slicing off the monster’s giant head and finally killing the damn thing.

She felt and smelled awful. Lamia wanted nothing more than to slide into a nice, warm bath. Curious, she took a look around to see how the others were doing.

They all looked exhausted. Unsurprising. She sighed before she called out a tired, “Good work, everyone.” A desperate pat down with some rags and the rest of the group fell asleep unceremoniously. Lamia had to keep watch with that awful smell clinging to the night air.

In the morning light, Lamia realized why it smelled so bad. The puddles of catfish vomit that remained on the stone were riddled with bones. It was essentially a graveyard. Lamia took it upon herself to clean up camp and force everyone to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

That day they made it out of the swamp. They all cheered—even Phoenix—toasting with a shot each of Viv’s awfully strong alcohol.

* * *

Two days later, they made it to the small outpost just before the Mount Clarel path. The guards there recognized Thorgo, and it made Lamia laugh. The last time they were at this post, he had swung a man clear over a hill side in the middle of training. Idiot was fine, but it definitely got the attention of every thrill seeker in the mountain’s guard. They lined up across the training ground, hoping to bring down the giant of a warrior, but Yao eventually brought an end to it with her sharp tongue.

Unfortunate, Lamia thought. She had even considered getting in that line for a chance to face him one-on-one. Although, now that she knew him better, she knew she definitely didn’t have a chance back then.

The group replenished their dwindling resources and sought the sweet relief of a decent rest and a warm bath. The bathhouses for the outpost were actually farther up the path and a decent effort to reach. Wholly worthwhile, in Lamia’s humble opinion.

Viv and Phoenix, somehow, decided they would run other errands before cleansing their bodies of the swamp-venture. Lamia was not going to abide by this, and so she clapped her hand firmly against Thorgo’s arm and told him, “We are going. Right now.”

He smiled hesitantly down at his lover, confusion and amusement in equal measure written across his face.

* * *

The hike up the mountain trail was long and arduous. When she finally caught sight of the bathhouse surrounded by firs and steam, Lamia felt like she could almost cry from the relief. It wasn’t the most exotic or special of bathhouses, but right now it felt like walking into her dream’s greatest pleasure. Thorgo should feel jealous.

When they got there, it was too early for the attendants to let them in. She pleaded, but the harried worker shook his head, saying the bigger baths still needed cleaning.

Time to change tactics, Lamia thought. She got close. Very close. She stared deeply into the attendant’s eyes, watched them sweat a bit, and whispered, “I was puked on by a giant fish. Can you not smell it? Because I can. I’ve been covered in this stench for days. _For. Days_.”

The poor attendant leaned back a fraction, looking off to the side and all around instead of directly at Lamia. She caught the drip of sweat down their temple. They were about to crack; she was sure of it.

Huffing, the poor attendant directed them to one of the smaller baths in the back. Not nearly as nice, but it was clean and that’s all Lamia truly wanted.

“You are truly fearsome,” Thorgo said from behind her, his voice just barely concealing his laugh. They stood before two separate changing rooms. She looked back at the warrior, unamused, and proceeded through one entryway.

But, she stopped just after the threshold. Taking her time, she pulled at her undershirt and threw it back at him. Then, her bra. Then, her boots were toed off from her feet, and she pulled down her pants so she could throw those at Thorgo, too.

He followed her in, tail swinging back and forth happily.

* * *

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Lamia strode into the bathing area armed to the teeth in soaps and towels. The room was humid and smelled a little like old, waterlogged wood. A tub in the center was meant for a handful of humans, but Lamia guessed it would be a snug fit with only her and Thorgo. Perfect.

Stone benches lined up with grates in the floor. Lamia happily placed a towel down on one and filled a nearby pail with water from the tub. “You can wash my back and I’ll wash yours, yeah?”

His heavy footsteps steadily drew near, having finally shed his own clothing. “Whatever you want.”

She was already pouring water over her head. The water wasn’t nearly warm enough yet, but it was just this side of perfection for weary Lamia. She lathered up a small hand towel and got to scraping away the muck and grime all over her body. Thorgo seemed happy to watch.

“Did you not grab your own soap, big guy?” she teasingly asked as she scrubbed viciously at her hair with sudsy hands.

“Ah, no, silly me,” he said while taking a seat on the towel-covered bench, letting his legs splay out comfortably. He eyed her up while his tail slapped against the floor. “It appears I forgot.”

Lamia almost giggled, but it came out as short bursts of air from her nose. “ _Alright_ , guess I have to do _everything_ myself.” She got an excited twitch of his ears for her trouble. Turning, she rinsed her hair and brushed it over her shoulder. The droplets of water scaling down her toned body were like magnets for Thorgo’s eyes.

“View’s pretty nice,” he teased.

She smiled at him, cocking her hip to the side. “You are so cute.” Her choice of words seemed to amused Thorgo more than they insulted him. Which was good, Lamia thought, because she could not lie about such matters.

Holding up her washcloth, she looked imploringly over at the warrior. “Will you wash my back, please?” She could almost make out the glint of mischief in his eyes, but he chose to lazily motion for her to turn. When she did so, Thorgo’s grabbing hands took hold of her waist and made her gingerly step backwards. It wasn’t until the press of his horns against the curve of her back did she stop.

This didn’t seem to be a reason for stopping, in Thorgo’s mind. His hands pressed at her to bend forward even more, so he could find the perfect path for his tongue to the juncture between her thighs. Her toes curled at the languid lapping of his tongue. Reflexively, she grabbed one of his horns and jerked his head back. She heard his grunt, and almost felt bad, except for the way he planted his feet firmly on the ground to rut his hips up. Lamia supposed he enjoyed it, then.

She fixed her posture and released his horn. “I would like to be clean before sundown, if you would be so kind.”

Thorgo didn’t actually say any words, but the movement of his hands spoke loud and clear. He gripped at her muscled back—massaging up, then down—all the way to her buttocks, which he took handfuls of in his exploration. The strength he put into his ministrations had Lamia swaying with the push and pull. The soap and water made his traveling hands glide nicely over her skin, even allowing for his fingers to slip to her front. He never went further than just below the curve of her tits, but he pushed his luck with every glide.

“You,” she started to say, but had to bite at her lip to stop a little mewl. “You had better… not let me fall.”

At her order, she received a swift smack on the ass. “Alright, then, turn around,” she heard him say.

She did and was greeted with the enticing sight of Thorgo with his hands a sudsy mess, and his length proudly at attention.

Before Thorgo could get his hands on her again, Lamia stepped back. He practically growled at her. Like a fucking dog that got its toy taken from it, Lamia thought.

“I think it’s your turn, no?” she smiled sweetly at him, In so much as she could, anyway, with her heart pounding in her chest and staring down a monstrous man that wanted to do many, many things to her.

She didn’t wait for a reply, only grabbing the pail and warning him to watch his ears as she drenched his body with, now warm, water. Thorgo shook his head, though he did seem to have calmed down a bit.

Lamia was having fun. Thorgo might not be, but she definitely was. It started with rubbing teasing circles into his scalp—making sure to tickle at the sensitive junction of skull and horns—and massaging detailed patterns into his rough skin. The way down his back gave her access to the base of his tail, which she was sure to tickle, too.

Poor Thorgo was going through it. The ripple of his muscles as she wiped down his tail was a fascinating display. With heavy breathing, he fucked up into the air with zero reservations. Kept his hands to himself, though, which surprised Lamia. It also made her let her guard down.

“Do you need help with the front, too, or do you think you’ll be able to handle that on your own,” she asked. Her tone was nothing short of malicious.

Thorgo’s ears, which she only just now realized were without his usual dangly bits, twitched wildly on his head. “Need you,” was his only response.

“Okaaay,” Lamia sing-songed. When she moved in front of him, she walked right into his desperate grasp.

“Woah!” she said, narrowly shifting her head to the side to escape from clipping her mouth against the upturn of his horn.

“Thurry,” was his muffled apology against the skin of her neck. He left long, lingering kisses against her skin. Lamia was still covered in soap, so she could only hope he didn’t go for any licks.

“Don’t put it in, don’t,” she had to tell him as he positioned her on his lap. He made a forlorn sound, but merely pressed her hot cunt over his length and humped. That was certainly a feeling. The glide over her entrance and to the back made her body yearn for more. She tried massaging into his arms and chest—both as an attempt to finish her job and to do _something_ with her hands.

Eventually, she had to pull away, though his arms had crossed over her back so snugly she didn’t get far. The glide against her clit was stimulating, but Lamia needed more.

She hiked further back on his legs, her own legs spread wide. “Touch me?” she meant to make her request more confident, but it definitely came out like a question.

Thorgo seemed mad, like he wanted to say, ‘I _wa_ s doing that!’ but instead his tail thumped excitedly as she moved one of his hands to between her legs. As compensation, she wrapped her own hand around his dick. It twitched impatiently.

The warrior’s calloused fingers slipped over her soft folds with ease. Water and her own excitement made sure of it. Lamia played at the tip of his length until her hand was coated nicely. The ruddy hue was even more apparent than the first night they spent together. His balls were just as heavy-looking, though.

The sopping wet sound between the two of them was obnoxiously loud for even Lamia, so she could hardly imagine what Thorgo was experiencing. He was trying so hard to watch her hand glide over his dick while also watching his fat fingers dip into her cunt. His ears at attention.

Lamia couldn’t stop a hitch of her breath at a particularly rough pass of the pads of his fingers. This seemed to spur him on to the next stage, as he dipped his finger at her entrance.

“ _Oh, shit_ ,” she whined. She raised the arm clasped over his shoulder to grip one of his horns. She hiked up a bit and pushed down against his fingers. Thorgo let out a pleased groan, and held nothing back when he started to fuck her with one, then two, of his huge fingers.

His thumb playing at her clit and the _slick-slick-slick_ of his fingers running her body ragged made the slow crawl of her orgasm turn into a rushing wave. Lamia bit her lip. Sweat and water and soap dripped down her body. Thorgo’s other hand clasped at her hip to keep her steady, but it all started to muddle up in her head. Was she even still jerking him off, she wondered. She could barely think as he pistoned his fingers in and out, going deeper and deeper with every stroke.

An opportune curve of his fingers brought Lamia sweet release. His eyes watched her lovingly as she came hard around his fingers. The tiniest moan escaped her, though she clapped the hand holding his horn over her mouth to keep it down. That hand on her hip was a blessing. His fingers weren’t nearly as punishing as they had been just minutes before, but they pushed in and out in a steady rhythm.

Lamia took a moment to catch her breath before she released her hold on Thorgo and slid off his fingers and his lap. When she looked up, he was busy cleaning off his fingers with his mouth. She saw the tip of his tongue poke out, and it almost made her want to start drooling. So, she got to her knees in front of him.

Thorgo looked positively thrilled. Lamia got right to work, gripping both of her hands around his base. Her tongue worked around his drooling tip, popping it into her mouth and sucking. Salty. The muscles surrounding her flexed as Thorgo enjoyed the sights, the sounds, the touches…

Until Lamia popped her mouth clean off and unwound both of her hands. Her reward was a pained groan from above, though she continued to do as she pleased. The mercenary leaned in to tongue at his balls, using both hands to pinch and pull and soothe the strangely textured sack. Like it was covered in the tiniest hairs—she mulled over the thought for a span of a second before Thorgo’s hand reached down and grasped one of her hands. He brought it right back to his aching dick, never letting go of her wrist as he started guiding her hand up and down the length of it for her.

She huffed out a laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

The crack of his tail against the bathhouse floor spoke volumes.

Lamia apologized by running her tongue up and down his length. His abs tensed in front of her. The thumping of his tail signaling his end.

He breathed heavily into the humid air. The short, aborted thrusts of his hips into Lamia’s hands and mouth dragged out all manner of sordid sounds. Her other hand continued to play with his balls, and it all combined into a heavenly experience for the desperate warrior.

Lamia looked up and saw Thorgo watching with mouth open and tongue sticking out. She laughed. Her tongue played its way to the tip once again and finally she took as much into her mouth as she possibly could (not much at all), working her tongue this way and that.

Thorgo huffed out of his nose as his hips worked his dick in and out of her mouth. His entire body tensed as his orgasm crashed over him. The warrior didn’t even try to hide his groans of pleasure as his cum spilled out of her mouth. She pulled back enough to let the rest hit her chin and neck and chest with shot after shot. It spilled down her front; some pooling in her lap. It was a lot.

Lamia ran her tongue over her lips. Then, she smiled up at Thorgo. “See? Wasn’t that nice?”

He looked markedly dazed as he watched her from above. “I think,” he tried to say, needing to gulp down a breath of air. “I think you’re going to kill me someday.”

She grinned ferociously up at him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

* * *

They left the outpost the next day. Lamia was able to clean off and trade the platinum mail she found for a rucksack and some extra food supplies. By the time she was done, the heft reminded her of having to lug Phoenix around. Thorgo took it off her hands easily enough, and he moved around like it weighed nothing at all. All the better, because the path through the mountains was easily more visited than the swamps, yet still long and arduous. Though, Phoenix mentioned, while they made camp in a tiny alcove, they were making good time.

Warm and cozy, Lamia sat close to the fire, her thigh pressed firmly against Thorgo’s.

“Think we’ll have to loop around again to head south or will Markus send us on another wild goose chase?” she asked the group.

Viv was sipping at a little of the wine she kept stashed away. She wouldn’t have to wake up for watch tonight, so she let the liquid lull her into a drowsy state. “Guess that depends on how much of a fight Yao puts up.” Lamia laughed at that.

A little later, Phoenix was winding down his tale that Thorgo had cajoled him into telling. Lamia took a good look at her brightly polished blade before sheathing it and placing it to the side. The stars were bright and a wintery breeze nipped at them—just this side of unbearable. Guwen would have loved it; Ignaceus would have hated it.

It was strange not having the whole crew together, Lamia thought.

* * *

Several days later, Mount Clarel and the passage to Norvern Way were within sight.

The city nestled within the mountains was the largest this far up north. Norvern Way was best known for its eclectic mess of taverns and churches; at least one on every street.

Suffice it to say, the place was a shithole.

Lamia thought of the last time they visited, and hoped that the ‘Wanted’ posters were all taken down. That little mix-up with the local guard wasn’t the best time of Lamia’s life, though Viv and Thorgo seemed to get a kick out of the situation.

“I can’t wait to sleep in a bed again,” Lamia said as she stretched high above her head. Her shoulders popped for her efforts, and it drew a satisfied groan from her.

Viv agreed, but Phoenix was the one to put a damper on her good mood. “We may arrive earlier than expected, but we still need to remain vigilant for the others,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she flicked her hand his way in a vague semblance of a salute. He said this, but Lamia figured he desperately wanted the same, if his atrocious travel beard was anything to go by.

Around a bend, they noticed a cluster of caravans clogging the mountain pass. As they drew near, it was a cacophony of arguing between travelers. Viv was the one to ask a nearby older merchant couple what the ruckus was all about.

A woman with her salt and pepper hair tied up in a bun said, “Landslide up ahead blocked the road. We were just talking about turning around to take another route.”

The woman bundled in a warm looking shawl beside her nodded her head. “You’d best do the same; the cleanup could take weeks.”

Viv hmm’d, but thanked the couple for their explanation before turning back to the group.

Thorgo shrugged. “What’s the problem with a landslide? Can’t we just walk through?”

Phoenix rubbed at his chin, fingers scratching through the grizzly beard he now sported. “Depends on how bad it is.”

Lamia piped up, “Then, let’s go check it out.” The others agreed.

The problem was apparent when they walked forward another ten or fifteen minutes. The mountain face itself had crashed down on the road from both sides, leaving rubble and the remains of splintered trees in the path. The blockage was huge. Unfortunately, there was no safe way to pass through.

“Now what?” Lamia asked.

Her friends seemed to ponder this question.

“We can’t wait here for weeks,” Viv said. “But, going back to an alternate route would be another week.” She was right, Lamia thought.

After a while, Thorgo said, “We could climb up?” He scratched at the back of his head.

“We’re not mountain goats, or at least most of us aren’t,” Lamia said. She eyed up his horns, and that earned her cheek a light pinch from the warrior.

Viv seemed to consider his suggestion seriously, however. She lightly tapped the tip of her chin with her pointer finger.

“Actually,” Viv started to say with a lilt in her voice. “I remember seeing a trail across the gorge we passed yesterday. One of those little ones the local critters use.”

Phoenix seemed lost. “Is this wise?”

“No,” was the general response.

“I guess that means we have to do it, now,” Lamia joked. But, also, she knew.

That was exactly what they were going to do.

* * *

Crossing the gorge ended up not being the hardest part of their inane plan.

The hard part was the trail itself. It was so, so narrow. Lamia was actually surprised that Thorgo could fit, though she did catch him holding her shoulder on occasion to steady himself. Which was fine, really, Lamia thought. If he took the both of them down, then maybe she could use his body as a sled.

They reached the craggy top of a small mountain, catching their breath for just a moment.

The view was stunning. The mountains surrounding them were all snowless. Only massive Mount Clarel was topped with the tiniest patch of white. A little to the north of Mount Clarel would be where Norvern Way was nestled amongst the mountain.

“I can’t believe it, but I think this mountain goat highway might be faster than the main road,” Lamia spoke up, breathing just a little heavily.

Thorgo sat his ass on a boulder off to the side, and laughed. “Seems it, huh?”

Viv looked like she was dying. This was the most worn-out Lamia had seen the healer since the time they took on a horde of undead that only her magic was capable of taking down. Weirdly enough.

“Mercenary,” Viv called out feebly.

Lamia laughed a little at the sight. “Yes, Viv?”

Viv did not answer, only repeated, “Mercenary.”

“Are you actually dying on me, you old bat?” Lamia turned her whole body to face the tiny woman.

Viv seemed to take that personally, and her wrinkles deepened for a fraction of a second. “I was going to warn you about the giant bird coming towards us, but now I think I won’t.”

Thorgo and Phoenix simultaneously craned their necks to look off in the direction Viv was staring at. Lamia chose to take her time in turning around. A bird-shaped speck on the horizon grew steadily closer, and steadily larger.

Ah. So there was.

* * *

One or two blasts of lightning from the point of Phoenix’s sword was all it took to take the behemoth bird out for the count. Thank the gods, Lamia thought. Thorgo was actually delighted to see the bird, strangely enough.

“They’re called rocs,” he explained, as he shoved Moloch into the bird’s carcass. A gruesome enough sight during battle, but maybe doubly so in this instance.

“No, that’s a bird,” Lamia said.

Thorgo looked back at her, completely underwhelmed.

“Sorry. Continue,” she motioned grandly to the warrior.

He stood on top of the giant mass of feather, leaning against the embedded length of his spear. “The beak and feathers can be used for armor, the bones for medicine and weapons, and the talons are a show of great fortune.”

“We are _not_ carrying a giant fucking bird to Norvern Way,” Lamia could not stress enough how absolutely batty he sounded right now.

He smiled. “The talons can sell for _a lot_ of coin.”

Lamia squinted up at him. Thorgo wiggled his brows, as if saying ‘ _Eeehhh? Eeeeeeehh_?’ Phoenix looked absolutely done with the pair. Viv was still laying on her back on the ground, having never moved.

The mercenary crossed her arms over her chest. “How much we talking?”

Thorgo did not answer, unless you count the crunch of Moloch severing the bird’s talons from its feet an answer.

There were the ten of them in total, including the slightly smaller set from the hallux, and they were all big as shit. This, unfortunately, meant that they would only be able to grab a few. Thorgo lugged one over his shoulder, while Lamia wrestled another talon to be strapped to her back. It hung over her head in a deadly promise. She tried to get Phoenix to carry one of them, but he refused to indulge them. There was no chance Viv was going to carry anything. Mostly because they were larger than she was. Also, because the healer was fucking lazy.

The rest of the bird would have to be left behind. Thorgo seemed irritated at the waste, but eventually Lamia told him they could sell the location of the body to somebody else. A win-win, she told him. Eventually, he nodded and they could all set off.

Down the mountain, the group finally made it to another part of the main road. The markers situated at odd points revealed that they were only a matter of a half-day’s walk from the outskirts of Norvern Way. Lamia whooped and gave Phoenix and Thorgo celebratory slaps on the shoulder. Viv got a low-five.

“We’re just going to have to head out again within the week, Lamia, you know this,” Phoenix added in his usual unsolicited downer.

“But! The whole group will be together and I will finally have all of my stuff again!” She would not allow him to ruin her good mood.

Fate would ruin her good mood. And, also not give her stuff back.

* * *

At the outskirts, they spotted Ignaceus all on his lonesome. His black hair curled softly to frame his face, but his austere black robes with the accents of gold and his snobby face really downplayed any other softness he might have.

“Iggy!” Lamia cried out happily. “So you got the message we sent ahead—good!”

The bland look on his face immediately changed to one of displeasure. He turned round to catch a glimpse of the group, and allowed his usual sour mood to shine through.

“Yes, yes. I know I gave you two weeks, but you sure did take your damn time,” the tall man said irritably.

“I missed you immensely, too,” Lamia placed her hand over her heart, as if she were overcome by the emotion.

“Shut up,” he snapped. Then, he spoke to more clear-headed folks. “They’re all waiting at the inn closest to the eastside. Let’s go.” And, without further ado, he walked off.

Lamia looked over at Viv. The healer shrugged.

“We wanted to start our search the moment you all got here, but we might have to wait until the morning. You all look… you all smell _horrible_ ,” the beanstalk of a mage said over his shoulder. Lamia jogged a bit to catch up.

“Yes, we’ve been swamp diving and mountain climbing. You should remember, since last time you were there,” she needled him.

Phoenix flanked Ignaceus’ other side. “We ran into a bit more trouble than last time.”

“Noooo, I’d say it was an equal amount of trouble,” Lamia said. She looked behind her and saw Thorgo giving Viv a lift on top of his rucksack. The healer’s tiny head popping over his shoulder. Cute, Lamia thought.

“So, what’s this about a search?” Viv called out.

Ignaceus’ face pulled into a grimace. “Right… well, you’ll learn about it when we arrive.”

“Helpful as always, little mage,” Lamia heard Thorgo mutter in the back, and if the set of Ignaceus’ shoulders was anything to go by, so did he.

* * *

When the party reunited, it felt like they hadn’t been away for even a moment. The inn they met at was a touch small for Thorgo, but he still managed to maneuver his way into the bar area. The others had already set up some crates for him to sit on. Guwen and Yao settled their own table closer so the group could all huddle together over drinks and food. The bar was thriving at this time of night, and so the group had to stick close to hear each other over the rabble.

“How long have the rest of you been here?” Viv finally thought to ask.

“Only a night,” Markus admitted after swiping off a frothy layer from his returned facial hair.

“Cripes, Iggy made it sound like you all have been waiting for days,” Lamia giggled, maybe a few too many drinks in.

“Well, yes and no,” Guwen looked off to the side. Yao set down her drink beside her.

“Some startling events happened after your group defeated the high dragon,” the knight spoke up. Her face set in its usual seriousness.

Lamia winced a bit. So, it was a high dragon that beat the tar out of them. Figures.

“The hamlet, the people, the jobs they gave us… were all a trap,” Guwen started to explain. Lamia interjected with a faint ‘Fucking knew it!’ but Viv would have none of that and took her drink away. When Guwen was sure she wouldn’t be interrupted again, she continued. “The village was being controlled by a cult looking to destroy us before we saved the world.”

“A… cult?” Viv asked.

Yao nodded. “They were the ones that ousted the princess from the country and,” the knight clasped the princess’ hand tightly. “Had us on warring sides for so long.”

“It was, like, two months. At most,” Lamia waved it off.

“You are so damn annoying when you’re drunk,” Ignaceus hissed at the mercenary.

Thorgo laughed a little, “I’ll take Lamia to her room. You can update her in the morning.”

Lamia shushed all of the agreeing parties. “I. Will shut up. Now, continue.” She got some of the group eyeing her like they didn’t quite believe her, including Thorgo.

“The tasks they set us out to complete were meant to divide and conquer us, yet we prevailed,” Yao said. “They thought the ruins would destroy us once and for all.”

“Ah, the ruins,” Viv said suddenly. At the questioning looks, she explained the odd, time-worn murals that lined the walls. The people dragging something to the mountain was the cult bringing forth their sacrifice. The monster depicted was the high dragon that slumbered there for centuries. The cult must have originated from that little hamlet, they surmised.

Ignaceus finally opened his mouth for something that wasn’t berating Lamia. “The section we entered led to a crypt. They used necromancy on the remains of what I can only assume were past sacrifices. We barely made it out of the place.”

Markus added, “But, we did make it out—alive and well because we all worked together. And, that damn dragon is done for, too, thanks to your efforts.” He nodded to Phoenix and Viv and Thorgo. Lamia sent a rude gesture toward Markus over the side of the table.

“Right,” Ignaceus added hesitantly, as if a bit embarrassed by the words that just came from their leader’s mouth. “Although, when we finally made it out of the caves, the village was essentially gone. The mayor and some soldiers stuck around to make sure we didn’t come back out, but they were easy compared to the hellish spirits we had to fight. The rest of the cult took our things and fled, but the mayor seemed more than happy to give information with... proper motivation.”

Lamia’s brain short-circuited. “Wait, they stole our stuff?”

“Thought you weren’t going to talk anymore, mercenary,” Viv grumbled.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m serious, they stole our stuff?” Lamia’s brows knit together in anger.

“Yes, which is why we’re here,” Markus motioned to the general ‘here’. Norvern Way. “They’ve got our things hidden in a secret hideout somewhere in the city.”

Lamia felt an oncoming headache. All of her clothes and traveling wares and _money_. And the cloak Thorgo got for her. This is what she got for letting her guard down and leaving her valuables all willy-nilly.

“So, tomorrow we’re storming the castle?” Thorgo asked.

“Tomorrow we’re trying to find out where the castle is, then we’re storming it,” Markus amended.

“You should sell your “loot” in the morning before we set out,” Phoenix reminded Thorgo and Lamia.

At the mention of loot, Guwen turned excitedly to the pair. This changed topics over to the monsters and hardships that came from seemingly nowhere on their journeys. The princess was a lover of songs and stories, so she was the one to report on the other group’s wild excursions. Apparently, both teams had their fair share of the muck and grime.

It gave Lamia a sort of vindictive pleasure when she heard about Markus almost being clawed to death by harpies.

After a time that seemed all too long and yet far too short, Lamia stood from her seat and stretched. “Right, right. Alright. I’m leaving, then, you all wear me out.” She maneuvered around Thorgo and gave Guwen and Yao friendly pats on the shoulder before she said her goodnights. She would refrain from hugs while she still smelled like an amalgamation of undesirable things.

However, she stopped at the base of the stairs when Thorgo didn’t follow. She turned back and crooked her head to the side. The rest of the group was back in conversation, but the warrior stared at her retreating back. Quickly, he seemed to jolt into movement when he saw she wanted him to come with her. Lamia returned to taking the steps two at a time, but didn’t miss Guwen’s lovely voice.

“That necklace looks very handsome on you, Thorgo,” she said.

* * *

In the morning, Lamia woke up with her head rested against Thorgo’s shoulder. There was no way his weight would be held up by the spindly legs of the inn bed, let alone any chance the two of them would fit on it together. After washing up, the pair had layered up blankets and the single shitty pillow to give Thorgo some modicum of comfort. Lamia laid down as close to him as possible. It wasn’t the best, but his warm body kept the chill away.

She stretched out on the bed. Her shoulders popped pleasantly.

“Mmmorning,” she said as soon as she saw his eyelids flutter open.

“Mmn,” was his answer. Very much the morning type, Lamia thought teasingly.

She scooted closer to give him a kiss on the cheek, body inching up off the mattress to reach. She got a lazy shift of his tail for all of her hard work.

“We need to go to the market district if we want to sell those talons,” she said.

“Yeeeup,” Thorgo responded, yawning and stretching his own arms high above him. Lamia hopped out of bed, feeling much better than she had the last time she drank too much. A little hungry and a little thirsty, but ultimately much better.

They dressed in their battle gear, figuring that as soon as they sold the talons, they would be sent off to hunt cult members with the rest of the group. And, Norvern Way was a big, shithole of a place.

The sun wasn’t yet up, but similar early risers were also starting to begin their day. Or, perhaps their yesterday just never ended.

The market district was in the south section of the city. It meant the pair had to actually enter the city gates, which was always a trip. The last time they entered the city, an old ‘Wanted’ poster for the princess and her “kidnappers” was making the rounds. It took them a solid week of running through the city, escaping the guard and other mercenaries looking for a mountain of gold, trying to find the shithead that started the bounty up _again_. Lamia’s face was the one plastered all over the place, too. What an awful time, Lamia thought.

It shouldn’t have surprised Lamia at how crowded the market district was, yet she still clasped at the carrier that kept the gigantic talon strapped to her back. Now, the problem was finding the right kind of buyer.

“Alright, big guy, find the sulkiest guy around and he’ll be the one to buy these,” Lamia assured her partner in crime. Thorgo took a look around the district from his superior height, his ears going every which way, before he strode forward without a word. Lamia was happy to follow.

Thorgo found himself in front of a skinny, terrifying-looking fellow. The kind that couldn’t keep his gaze in any one place. Definitely a part of the black market.

“What’s this, then,” the skin-and-bones man asked.

“Roc talons, adult, fresh from the field,” Thorgo explained happily. This drew the peddler’s suspicion, and he asked to have a closer look. Thorgo slammed his own talon on the table before the peddler. It shook the whole damn thing, knocking off odds and ends. The creepy fucker looked less than amused, but he still closed in on the prize. It felt like it took him ages to sniff around every crack and crevice.

Abruptly, he asked to see the other. Lamia handed it to Thorgo, perhaps with a little difficulty getting it off her back without digging into her coat.

The peddler took considerably less time before he muttered, ‘Yes, yes, they’re real. Fine. I’ll pay you 600 gold for the both of them.”

Thorgo scoffed. “For both? That should be each! Each!”

Lamia felt her mind wander. She liked the clink of gold coin in her hand, but she liked it better yet when she didn’t have to think of values and the like. While Thorgo haggled, Lamia let her eyes cross the expanse of merchants and their wares. Food and jewels and weapons and Markus’ old helmet.

Wait, Lamia thought. Old helmet? Markus? She tore her gaze back to a pair of women, discussing prices for what was definitely Markus’ old helmet—it had the poorly repaired dent in the side from the first time they entered Clearwater. There was no way he got rid of that, Lamia thinks she remembers him mentioning it was his mother’s or something.

“Fine!” the skinny peddler’s voice cracked through her focus like a whip. “1,200 for the talons now, if you bring me more I’ll consider your offer in more detail.” The creepy man dug down through a chest at his feet for a time, before a huge sack full of coin was shoved into Thorgo’s waiting palm.

“Pleasure doing business,” Thorgo said, then he turned happily to Lamia.

But, she was paying attention to something else, not him. He looked over.

“Those fuckers are trying to pawn off our stuff,” Lamia whispered.

Ah, Thorgo thought. Well, he could see her joy at the coin later.

“We following them?” the warrior asked.

Lamia answered by gripping Thorgo’s wrist and dragging him after the thief.

The twists and turns they took through Norvern Way would have left Lamia lost long ago, if it weren’t for her partner. His hearing was good enough that they could stay back at a good distance, not a chance of being found. Yet the cultist seemed to be the ambling type and went across the city in as disorderly of a manner as one could.

With the sun finally lighting the sky, however, they finally reached a dead end. Before them was a mansion, the likes of which Lamia had never seen before.

“Their secret hideout is… one of the most suspicious buildings in all of the city?” Lamia asked, incredulous.

“Seems about right,” Thorgo said. “Should we go grab the others?”

She sighed. “Yeah, let’s get this over quick.” What a pain in the ass, Lamia thought.


	4. The Mansion is Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, ya'll. This became a beast.

Incidentally, it was not over quick. Even with the combined might of all eight travelers, the cult had a lot of people. People they thought were simple farmers and bakers and tavern waitresses. It was a little surreal trying to not get stabbed by the old woman that made you pie.

“Don’t think, just fight,” Thorgo told her brusquely, after Lamia had another close encounter with the sharp edge of a blade.

She sighed because she knew he was right. They wanted the group dead, so it was a matter of self-defense, as well.

Markus took the front like usual. He was the solid wall of armor between the squishy mages and whatever hellfire came their way; though Lamia did like to use his bulky frame as a hiding spot, too. Thorgo wasn’t using Moloch, but the cultists soon learned he wasn’t lacking for it, when he pushed a full-grown man clear through a wall. It was certainly an enlightened method of getting the bad guys’ attention.

When the waves of cultists died out, the group split up to search the area. Lamia was currently sifting through the rooms with Phoenix—looking for traps or treasures or any manner of things. Far in the eastern wing of the first floor, they found the kitchens. It looked like a soul hadn’t stepped in their in decades.

“How are these people living? Where are the toilets? This mansion is bizarre,” Lamia looked positively perplexed.

“I think all of your questions are the least of our worries, Lamia,” Phoenix said offhandedly. “We should return to the others; the cult needs to be dealt with first.”

She was no stranger to fighting, but what truly worried her were the little things: the blood, the mess, the _smells_. “This place is going to be wretched. Kind of already is, though,” she said as she looked over the dusty corners. The mansion has definitely seen better days. It made her wonder why, of all of the potential hideaways a cult could choose, they chose this building to shack up in.

It was large, but in a state of dereliction. After scoping out a handful of rooms, Lamia could say with certainty that the cultists weren’t using this home for very long. If anything, it had been left abandoned by its previous owners for many years prior. Any furniture that had been left behind was musty and eaten away by moths and other creatures.

They exited the kitchens. Down the hall, Viv and Thorgo stood at the entryway to the large foyer.

“Nothing this way,” Lamia called out.

“Ah, well. The others should be coming back to the foyer in a moment,” Viv sighed. She turned and exited the hallway, but Thorgo waited for Lamia and Phoenix.

Markus was standing at the other side of the foyer, waiting alongside Ignaceus for Yao and Guwen to finish their own patrol of the west wing. Phoenix walked over to speak to their leader.

“There’s a few cultists still above us,” Thorgo said, standing close to Lamia. She looked him over; his shoulders were tense and his tail swung back and forth impatiently.

Lamia took a look around the room. The large staircase in the middle of the room wound along both sides and up to the second floor. It must have been a grand old thing, back in the day, but it just made the largely empty and dusty foyer seem lonely.

“Hey, Iggy, do you want to help us wrangle some cultists upstairs?” Lamia asked.

The tall mage squinted his eyes at her. “Why me?” he asked.

“Alright, you cheeky shit, like I need your dumb magic; then, Markus?”

Markus was about to open his mouth, but Ignaceus talked over him, “Fine! Fine, but you better have a plan.” Then, he stalked over to join Thorgo and Lamia.

Markus seemed a touch worried, though Phoenix appeared completely unbothered. “Will it be alright with just the three of you?”

Lamia sent a confused look over at him, then answered by simply motioning to Thorgo’s intimidating form.

“Right,” their leader seemed mollified. “Don’t go too far, we’ll meet up with you soon.”

Thorgo took to the stairs immediately.

“I want you to use that spell again, the one that blocked off the stairway earlier. It really helped with crowd control,” Lamia told Ignaceus as they hustled after the warrior.

“Thought my magic was ‘shit’,” Ignaceus complained childishly.

“Sometimes! You really have the worst limitations,” and Lamia was going to continue by listing off all the horseshit they’ve had to deal with in regards to his fickle magics, but she quieted down at the look Thorgo sent her way.

“Something smells… off,” the Bull warrior muttered.

She hmm’d softly. “This place is a rotting mess,” Lamia tried. Thorgo only shook his head and took the rightmost staircase. Two doors lined either side of the second floor. Thorgo passed the first door and went straight to the one farther down. He reached to open the door, but it appeared to be locked.

“Should I go grab Phoenix—" Lamia began to say, but Thorgo just kicked down the door with ease. “Nevermind.”

Inside was a shorter hallway, with a statue at the far end. There did not appear to be any doorways other than the one at the entrance, though.

“The hell is the point of this?” Lamia asked.

“It’s probably a trap door or a hidden entryway,” Ignaceus explained. Thorgo moved to let Ignaceus sleuth about.

Lamia looked over the statue; a bronze bust of an older gentleman. He stared her down with an imperious frown. Maybe the owner of the mansion, or someone of importance to the family. Why leave that here, Lamia wondered.

Ignaceus knocked against a piece of molding with his foot, the wood giving way to the tap and the wall before him slid to the side. It really was a hidden doorway.

Before Lamia could congratulate him, she felt a subtle gust of air. Behind her, a cultist using a mirage spell snuck through the doorway. They were no master assassin, though, and so she unsheathed the sword at her hip and deftly stabbed the fucker straight through the gut.

The spell flickered out and the would-be assassin crumbled to the floor.

In the newly revealed room, Ignaceus’ hands were wrapped in the blue glow of his magic. He froze the air around him and sculpted icy prisons that covered his enemies. Thorgo smashed the ice with his fists and shattered the cultists into bits and pieces.

Lamia peeked into the room. It was a large library, with windows that looked out into the streets of Norvern Way. What was the point of hiding this library away if any old thief could just sneak in from the windows?

“Why is everything on the first floor gone, but not up here?” Lamia asked.

That question appeared to surprise Ignaceus, as he looked up from a book that he had snatched from a nearby shelf. “I… It was hidden away,” he seemed to hesitate.

But, Lamia pointed to the windows. “Windows. Right there. Anybody with a ladder could climb through.”

Ignaceus sighed, then shrugged his shoulders. “There might be a magic seal over the windows, something to keep people out, or to make them see something else.” He snapped the book shut. “It doesn’t matter—do your fucking job and kill things.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. Thorgo was sniffing around the back, so Lamia walked over to him instead.

“Didn’t take you for a reader, big guy,” she teased.

His ears twitched, though he seemed happy enough to have her by his side. “I thought… I heard more people over this way.”

Lamia looked around. “Maybe more secret doors?” Thorgo tilted his head, then started pushing books off from the shelves. “Uhh,” Lamia called out hesitantly.

“Isn’t this a thing? Bookshelves hiding secret passageways?” Thorgo asked, though he did stop in his mischief-making.

“That… is a thing, I guess,” and so Lamia started to help him.

It was oddly fulfilling sending row after row of books flying. However, the snap of Ignaceus’ voice did put a damper on the mayhem.

“ _What_ are you two doing?”

Lamia’s shoulders hitched a bit, not that she was scared of him, but in an oddly reminiscent way like one would after getting caught stealing cookies before dinner. She straightened up to give him a teasing remark, but the press of her hip against a nearby shelf caused the ones directly behind her to slide to the side.

Lamia didn’t expect it, and so her body fell back to the now open floor. Dazed, she watched as Ignaceus’ lightning snapped through the air above her. It looked a little cool, she had to admit.

From her position on the floor, she had an upside down view of the revealed room. It was lit by candles that cast an eerie glow, and the charred bodies of several cultists lined the ground. In the center was a big, haphazardly put together looking altar. The flayed body of a pig was strung up in the center of a circle—perhaps as a sacrifice. A marble pedestal lay beneath, with cups to catch the steady drip of fluids below.

“Eugh. _Cultists_ ,” Lamia spat out.

Thorgo moved forward to give her a hand up, which she took gratefully.

“Well, congratulations, you found your hidden passage,” Ignaceus congratulated them with contempt.

“We sure did!” Lamia replied, injecting her voice with as much cheer as she could. She peeked into the room just a little bit, quickly trying to find anything of value. The most she noticed was an empty hole just below the top of the pedestal. “Alright, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Her companions agreed. Ignaceus seemed to want to look through the library some more—apparently it was riddled with books on magic and historical nonsense.

“Just grab some later,” Lamia huffed out at him. When she exited the library, the creepy smile of that bronze statue followed her all the way to the main room.

Wait a minute, Lamia thought. Unfortunately, she had no time to think, as she had to quickly chase after Ignaceus and Thorgo when they busted down the next door.

* * *

The next room was a big reading area. A massive fireplace took up the far side of the wall, and down to the left was a small alcove. There were no cultists, at least none that they could see.

Thorgo’s ears were flicking this way and that, his nostrils moving as he sniffed the air.

“Anything of interest?” Lamia asked him.

He didn’t answer right away, and the warrior had a perplexed look on his face. It seemed like he had forgotten himself, starting a bit when he looked down to answer, “No, nothing.”

That was weird. But, this mansion was weird, too, Lamia thought. She tried rubbing her gloved hand soothingly over his forearm, and it appeared to do something as his eyes looked wonderingly down at her.

Ignaceus came from around the bend in the room. He shook his head at Lamia’s curious look. “Nothing over here.”

“Alright, let’s go back to the others and see how we want to progress,” Lamia said. She felt another chill, but heard nothing to insinuate they were under attack. She looked back and forth, trying to find the reason for the chill, when the doorway that Thorgo kicked open slammed right back shut.

Lamia grasped the handle of her sword, ready to sink its blade deep into the gut of another cultist. Ignaceus started walking over to her, not wanting to be so far from the other two. Unfortunately, his movement seemed to be the catalyst for a number of events: the floor shook, the windows rattled, and whatever furniture was in the room began to slide ever closer to the walls.

“Magic?” Lamia called out.

“It would appear so, yes,” Ignaceus bit out, but then he seemed to be sinking into the floorboards. It was slow, then all together became far too quick. Thorgo and Lamia both lunged to grab him, but furniture flew in their way, or literally flew right into them. Thorgo was stopped by the crack of splintering wood as a table shattered against his side. Lamia, however, deftly maneuvered around the furniture, hopping over an ottoman and sliding beneath a sailing armchair that aimed straight at her head. Ignaceus had his arm out, fear overtaking his face as he sunk into the now dipping floorboards. Lamia caught his gangly wrist, clutching him and he clutching her, as the floorboards now swallowed her up, too.

It was like falling through water, though she could still breath. Lamia’s eyes were tightly shut, until she soon felt the solidity of floor beneath her prone body.

One eye flicked open, then the other. She looked around. It was a new room—dim and dusty like the rest of the house. Seemingly, they had entered a freezer, though. Lamia’s breath visibly puffed out before her. Normally, her fur-trimmed armor would help stave off the cold, yet in this instance it did nothing to warm her.

Ignaceus was hiding his face against her arm, his body lying next to hers and his thin hands clutching tightly to her covered arm. “Iggy, you awake?” she asked.

He startled, looked around anxiously, and upon remembering himself shoved away from the arm he held hostage not even moments before.

“No! I mean, yes!” he yelped, shooting up and stumbling to his feet. Lamia was much slower as she sat up from the floor.

“Can you light up the place, Iggy? I can barely see.”

A moment later, Ignaceus had a floating ball of light in his hand. It illuminated the ramshackle old room in all its dusty glory. Thorgo was nowhere to be seen.

Eventually, she rose to her feet. “Alright. We’re still in the mansion, so that’s good. Now, to figure out how to get back to everyone else,” Lamia spoke mostly to herself, but Ignaceus made no motion to fight her on this. He had a decent layer of sweat around his brow.

The room was mostly empty, with some chests in the corner and a little tea table with little wooden seats out in the open. Two exits to the north and west. Lamia took the north exit, first.

It led them to a long length of hallway. They walked it, on and on and on. There was nothing but the molding and paneling on the walls to guide their way. No pictures or busts to decorate. Nothing.

There was a single door at the end of the hallway that seemed to go on forever, but when Lamia peeked inside, it was just a copy of the room they came from. That same tea table and chairs right in the middle and the pile of junk in the corner.

“Is this… the same room?” Lamia asked Ignaceus.

He looked over at the other exit to the right. “Let’s try that one.” They did. It led to another long hallway that repeated much like the one before it.

“What kind of magic is this?” Lamia eventually asked Ignaceus.

He did not have an answer, so that boded well for the pair.

Instead of repeating the same shit, they looked around the room with a fervor. Lamia even upended the tea table and chests, trying to see if there was writing or something. Anything.

She threw an empty chest behind her, but stopped when Ignaceus gave a little “Ah-hah!” He pointed at the wall when she looked over at him. “It went through the wall.”

She turned the other way to look at the offending wall. There was no chest in sight. So, it must have.

Lamia tried sticking a gloved hand through the wall. It disappeared. She shoved her face through, and found another hallway.

Moving back out, Lamia turned to Ignaceus. “What about that one?” she pointed over to the southern wall.

Ignaceus stuck his hand through the wall, took a peek, and his whole body recoiled within a matter of seconds. Lamia asked what was wrong, but he had to take a moment to collect himself. He breathed in and out deeply. “Nothing. It was nothing. Uh… you first,” he moved to the side to let her pass him. She gave him a look, but stalked forward nonetheless.

Carefully, hand on the hilt of her sword, she walked through the wall. It was a new room, brimming from floor to ceiling with odds and ends. What must have startled Ignaceus was the large, imposing painting of a lady located on a stand directly before Lamia. She was dressed in finery and held the look of an authoritative sort of woman. The painting’s face was set in a frown, and her eyes watched as if they judged your every movement.

It took a moment for Ignaceus to follow, though his facial expression was controlled and he was absolutely avoiding looking directly at the painting. “What?” he snapped at Lamia as she watched him, but she only shook her head and turned to the room at large.

It had a high vaulted ceiling, the archs crossing the room and allowing the spiders plentiful opportunities to create their webs. It was actually a little sickening how thick the webs got in places, in Lamia’s opinion.

“It looks like a storage room,” Ignaceus said as he delicately pushed aside the covering of a nearby box. He peered in, then turned to the next thing.

“Maybe we’ll find something here,” she muttered. They started digging through the dusty crates and boxes. A lot of stuff, but it seemed like it was personal objects—nothing of monetary value but plenty of sentimental value. They searched the room, making a full trek around before they found themselves in front of the smiling woman’s painting again.

Lamia’s neck cracked at the whiplash she gave herself. She looked up at the painting with confusion, and Ignaceus followed her gaze only to look right back at her with confusion.

“What is it?” he asked.

“She’s smiling,” Lamia said.

“Yes,” Ignaceus spoke slowly, as if talking to someone a little touched in the head. “She is. Very astute.”

She didn’t stop looking at the painting. “She was frowning before.”

“What?” his voice completely baffled. “She’s been smiling the entire time.”

“No, she was definitely frowning when we first came through,” Lamia said this with surety.

“Are you blind?” And, it seemed like Ignaceus was going to continue, if it weren’t for the fact that Lamia shoved her sword into the painting’s face. There was an ear-piercing wail as the woman’s body bled out from the painting, the rafters above them shaking from the sound. Lamia tried to pull her sword back out, but instead it sunk deep into the now empty, dark pit of a painting. She lost the handle, eventually, and soon enough it was gone from view.

The shaking seemed to awaken something up in the rafters. Like the pitter patter of rain on the roof, something crawled along the walls to just above the pair. The thick layering of cobwebs began to push out towards them, and Ignaceus hid behind Lamia, though he stood a head taller than the mercenary.

“Look what you’ve done!” Ignaceus hissed, but Lamia bumped back into him and forced him to walk backwards.

Something hairy finally split open the webs, then another hairy something, then another and another. A large, black spider crawled out from the ceiling, looking to see what all the commotion was about.

“Ok, Iggy, kill it with fire!” Lamia said, and the mage did just that.

A stream of blazing hot fire burst from his open palm, igniting the spider before it reached the ground. Unfortunately, the fire also followed the thick line of web that connected the monster to the ceiling rafters, and soon the ceiling caught on fire as well. There was a strange popping noise, then a most putrid, lightly roasted smell hit Lamia’s nose. She had to cover her nose as the cobwebs sizzled away and the steady thunking of dead bodies fell to the floor.

Ignaceus closed his palm and the magic fire sizzled out. They looked around—a veritable graveyard before them. Some husks of human and smaller bodies, some piles of only bones left.

The fire was a lot, but it did finally give the pair a clear view of the ceiling. The markings and scratches along the walls and ceiling were grotesque, but they led Lamia’s eyes to a trap door hidden behind a series of dusty crates. The pair looked at each other and nodded. They moved around the fallen bodies, but when Lamia took one last look over to where the painting once stood, there was nothing. Nothing but a small, fist-sized gem on the floor. She picked it up because she may as well.

The trap door was connected to a stairwell that went down and around and down some more. Lamia took the lead, her bow at the ready since losing the sword. She had to slow down on occasion for Ignaceus—though one would think after months of trekking through all manner of terrain, the mage would have built a little muscle.

Where the stairs ended, it looked like the wrong side of another hidden doorway. Lamia barely moved before the wall slid to the side to reveal what looked like a bedroom.

Ignaceus yelped, crouching low and clasping her coat from behind, as a throwing knife embedded itself in the back wall just a touch too far right of Lamia’s head.

“Hello, Yao; hello, Guwen,” Lamia said happily.

* * *

The other side of the second floor was apparently a maze of bedrooms and oddball rooms. Yao and Guwen agreed: there was a bewildering aura all over the second floor, addling the mind and causing confusion amongst the explorers. Sometimes a cultist was caught in a fugue state, but they never answered to questions or threats. If anything, they just turned violent. This continued for hours, apparently.

Then, suddenly, it was as if the fog over their minds lifted barely a half hour ago.

“Ah,” Lamia thought it over—that fell in line with her and Ignaceus starting that fire in the storage room. “So, where are the others?” she asked.

“Phoenix and Vivienne returned with Thorgo to the east wing. Markus said he would watch the hallways-to make sure nothing was sulking about,” said Guwen.

Relief flooded over Lamia at hearing that Thorgo made it out, and it must have been readily apparent on her face because Yao laid a warm hand on her shoulder—though both she and Guwen were a fair bit shorter than the mercenary, it was a kind gesture.

The princess and her knight soon turned and led the way out from the bedroom. Ignaceus gripped onto Lamia’s arm before she moved.

“You’re not to tell anyone anything that they don’t need to hear about,” he glared down at her, speaking with a whispered hiss.

Lamia had to take a bit to figure out what nonsense he was spouting, before it dawned on her. “Iggy, they already heard you scream—” but his hand shushed her.

“Shut it, before I tell Thorgo about the time I caught you trying to steal Moloch,” he threatened.

Lamia stomped off, though she did argue back, “I wasn’t trying to steal it, I just wanted to know how it worked!”

“It’s magic, you dingbat!”

“Alright, you two, enough arguing,” came Yao’s calm voice, though the hint of annoyance was there. And, that was enough to get the two to stop. They may have thrown some rude gestures at each other along the way, however.

Markus was off in a corner, looking at an old painting wearily.

“I thought you were going to watch the halls,” Yao said.

Markus turned around, his hand falling from the short scruff at his jawline. “I was just—Lamia! Ignaceus! We were looking for you two!”

“Well, at least you didn’t forget about us,” Lamia grinned his way.

“It would be hard to forget your ugly mug,” Ignaceus whispered, but loud enough that Lamia could definitely hear.

“No way, she’s hot as hell,” Markus remarked before Lamia could say anything. It didn’t make her feel any better, but seeing Ignaceus’ disgusted face was its own sort of enraging

Before wars were waged between the trio, Guwen sweetly said, “I think we should go find the rest of the group. I’m sure they’re all still worried.”

That settled things diplomatically enough, and they made their way out of the maze. This mansion was certainly magical, Lamia thought, or just straight up cursed.

* * *

Thorgo was at the bottom of the flight of stairs leading to the west wing. He looked like he was waiting for the crew to finally come into sight before he let the tension in his shoulders drop a fraction.

“Thorgo!” Lamia said happily at spotting him. “You’re ok!” His tail swished back and forth behind him.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of any help, but you two seemed to take care of matters,” said Thorgo. His words insinuated they were meant for Lamia and Ignaceus, but his eyes never did seem to move away from the mercenary.

Markus laughed to the side, “He says that, but he’s been pacing all over the place and watching the ceiling like he was waiting for a sign from the Gods.”

“Oh, you heard us?” Lamia asked. That’s not what Markus expected her to say.

“I heard a scream, then the magic that was making it hard to think stopped. I tried to follow your footsteps, but it was difficult to pinpoint them,” Thorgo got a little bashful, scratching at the back of his neck lightly.

“You were on the roof?” Yao asked.

“No, I think it was the attic,” Lamia thought it over. “We found this thing,” she added, as she rifled through her pack to pull out the strange gem.

“Where was that?” Ignaceus asked, not recalling having seen it.

“Where the paint—” the rest of the group seemed completely lost. But, at that moment, Phoenix and Viv came out from the doorway that eventually led to the hidden library. Now, the group came together for a rest and a long-overdue huddle.

Lamia and Ignaceus tried to explain what happened, but it was hard to say much more than ‘Long hallways, much spider.’. Lamia showed everyone the gem she got, which Viv asked to look over. While she did so, Markus and Phoenix explained what they saw, then Yao and Guwen, then Thorgo. It was all wild bullshit, to be honest. Furniture shifting on its own, cultists hanging from the ceiling, and wounds in the wall. But, everyone agreed that it suddenly all stopped on its own.

Viv made a happy little noise, like she remembered something great. “Oh, the altar! This fits in the altar in the library!”

And so, they tried it. All together. No splitting up into groups this time. It fit perfectly, somehow.

Thorgo’s ears swiveled around, “Something opened up in the main room.”

It was a door—settled into the right side of the winding staircase at the bottom floor—that was never there before. Opening the door showed a staircase the led down into the cellar.

The group decided they would go down. But, before that, Lamia asked if anyone had a replacement for the sword she lost. Markus asked her, while handing over the old holy blade he hardly ever used anymore, what she did with her sword. She sighed. It was going to be embarrassing, but she told him the story.

* * *

While walking down the stairs, Viv mentioned offhandedly, “You know, I tried reading some of the books in that library.”

Lamia spoke up at the same time as Ignaceus. “Oh?” and “What did you find?” collided together.

“Ah, the usually things you’d come to expect from cults: extortion, murder, necromancy and other unholy practices,” Viv listed off. “The most recent journal I found was unfinished. Almost 100 years old.”

“100 years old? This mansion is that old?” Guwen asked. It was hard to imagine a huge mansion like this existing in Norvern Way without being completely plundered long, long ago.

“So it said,” said Viv.

“Those books must have been riddled with dark magic, then,” Ignaceus spoke up, looking for all the world like his curiosity was going to take him down another dark path.

“I take it back, Iggy. You’re not allowed to take any of the books on the way out,” Lamia called out to him. He scoffed at her.

Markus wondered out loud, “Should we burn the mansion before we leave?”

Surprisingly enough, Guwen was the one to shoot him down. “Markus! We’re in the middle of a city! A fire would put too many people at risk.” Lamia said nothing about setting the storage room on fire with Ignaceus, and he followed her lead.

The stairs went for far longer than they should have. The old stone walls surrounding them looked nothing like the rest of the house, and the old chill that Lamia thought she was rid of returned with a vengeance. Thorgo was just behind her. He managed to fit in the enclosed space, but unfortunately it wasn’t a comfortable fit for the giant warrior. He slouched forward; his arms held wide to use the walls to steady himself as he descended. Poor guy, Lamia thought.

Surprisingly, the bottom of the stairwell shone with torchlight. Markus straightened up, gathering his shield and war hammer at the ready. Phoenix snuck forward to peer through the opening. He looked this way and that, but seemed to be caught on something directly ahead in the room. When he walked back to the group, they all crowded together. Lamia felt Thorgo’s arms sneak up from behind to hold her steady as he sat down close on the stairs. It was the only way he could listen without leaning too much over the mercenary. She patted his hand comfortingly, as she could only imagine how annoying the situation must be for him.

Phoenix whispered urgently to the group. “Large room. They’re holding a ritual in the center. Two cultists to the left, three to the right, one center.” Soon enough, Markus was issuing out initial plans. Markus would serve as decoy, with the aid of some magical defense from dearest Viv. Yao and Phoenix would flank the cultists to draw more attention from the stairs, and Lamia’s job was to take down from afar. Guwen, Ignaceus, and Thorgo would remain on standby, in case things got out of hand.

Thorgo didn’t seem entirely pleased on being put on the sidelines, but he nodded his head regardless.

When the plan started, Lamia had the vague thought that maybe, just maybe, Phoenix should have warned everyone about the blood. Which was everywhere. It pooled down from a sigil burned into the stone ceiling, dripping onto and coating the floor. Disgusting.

The cultists were armed, but that didn’t seem to make much of a difference. A swing of Yao’s katana felled the two cultists on the left in a single blow. Phoenix stabbed into the heart of one on the right, while Lamia’s arrows hit nicely between the eyes of the other two. The final cultist sighed, muttered something about having wanted at least some of _their_ blood for the offering, before Markus’ hammer bashed right into his face.

The _drip-drop_ from above never ceased. “Sooo,” Lamia started. “Are we done?”

The finale seemed all too easy, but maybe Lamia shouldn’t have said anything at all. In the center of the ritual, where the blood pooled thickest, a sloshing sound arose.

One hand rose from the blood, dark and viscous. Then another, and many others soon followed. The sloshing turned into a surging wave against the stone flooring when a mass unlike anything Lamia had ever seen revealed itself. The multitude of hands reached out to the corpses lying around it, reaching and reaching and dragging them all back.

Lamia felt like she might vomit as the bodies were slowly sucked into the blood-soaked mass. It started to undulate, then its form cracked and shifted into something entirely different. First, a child. Then, an adult man, a spider, some crazy ass thing that looked like a worm with too many heads. It shifted and changed so fast that Lamia could only barely register that one of the forms it took looked oddly reminiscent of that lady in the painting.

Finally, it settled on its form. An otherworldly thing; dark red in coloration and fleshy appendages that wiggled out from its back. It looked a little humanoid, but maybe not. A little draconic, but maybe not. So jarred by its transformation, it took a moment for Lamia to realize that the dripping of blood from the ceiling had finally ceased.

The bizarre monster made a series of noises, but it sounded heavy and warped inside Lamia’s mind. It wasn’t comprehensible to her. When the group did nothing, it seemed to swell up in anger, and a single wiggling tendril from its back grew and thickened until it was long enough to reach out to the fighters. There was little to be done when Markus was struck with a blow so hard his heavily armored body flew into the back of the room.

“Hey, backup, time to get to work!” Viv shouted up the staircase. Lamia immediately got out of the way as Guwen and Ignaceus shot out of the exit, followed by Thorgo’s lumbering form. He looked positively thrilled.

The monster fought like a motherfucker and hit like a brick wall. Lamia had the unfortunate experience of being whipped across the room into a significantly large puddle of blood. She retched when a little splashed into her mouth, but still managed to evade the lash of a tendril of flesh. Though she shot

Ignaceus raised the excess blood up from the floor and froze solid in a pillar-like structure. It was his attempt to limit the monster’s connection with the blood sacrifice—an attempt to weaken it. Didn’t work according to plan, as the monster shattered the frozen blood and threw shards their way.

“ _Shit_!” Lamia yelled out, as Markus’ shield was punctured by a particularly nasty one.

“Alright, then,” their leader said, as he shucked the useless hunk of metal to the side. He twirled his hammer in his hand. “We’ve dealt with worse before.”

“I don’t know if that’s true, Markus,” Lamia called back. The demon swung another tendril down, straight at Markus’ shitty little head, but Lamia felt the easy cleave of her sword through the fleshy weapon. Markus whacked the severed end away with his hammer, and pat Lamia on the back in thanks.

The sight of eight supposed heroes running madly around in a blood-soaked cellar while trying not to get flayed alive was probably an interesting one. Thorgo got in a good, bloody hit with Moloch. Unfortunately, the demon took being speared clean through with a weapon about as well as one could, and flung Thorgo to the ground. He skidded back a bit on the bloody stone floor. When the monster raised one of its tendrils, now transformed to resemble a massive arm, it slammed down quickly in an attempt to finish the warrior off.

The glint of Yao’s sword was all Lamia saw before the appendage was cleanly severed. She puffed out a breath of air, returning to her defensive stance. Thorgo was able to push the limp hunk of flesh away before it fell on top of him, and he stood back up with a fervor to return to the fight.

The demon seemed to finally be reaching its last dregs of stamina. It still launched brutal attack after brutal attack, but the eight fighters stood their ground. Having Moloch embedded deep inside it probably didn’t help the monster.

Just as Lamia thought this may be the end, it got a lucky shot across her face. A gush of fresh blood covered her face, splashing into her eyes. She could feel the faint stitch of her skin healing back together—Viv was so on top of things—but the magic didn’t clear her vision.

Apparently, the sight of fresh blood brought the monster into a desperation. It lunged towards Lamia, eager to get at the blood she spilled. Frankly, she wasn’t about to run around with her eyes screwed shut. Yao had returned to Guwen’s side, protecting the princess as she sang her magic into existence. Lamia knew there was no chance of being able to slice through the monster’s thick, protective hide without Yao.

Instead, Lamia shifted close to the ground. The monster rushed in close, its long tendrils having been severed already. When it was just close enough, the thrum of its power and body audible to the mercenary’s ears, she shifted the hold on her sword and thrust upwards. She could feel the rip and crunch of its insides as the holy sword stabbed into its body. Short tendrils tried to rip her arms and head off, but Thorgo had used the opening Lamia gave to rip Moloch out of the monster’s torso and bring his spear right back down. He skewered the damn thing from shoulder to tail.

Lamia and Thorgo were promptly covered in chunks of the beast as Igneus ignited it from the inside.

Lamia felt like the buzz of adrenaline coursing through her body amplified the sounds around her. Thorgo breathed heavily from above her, shifting just a little beside her.

“You good, big guy?” she asked, tired. She tried to open her eyes but everything was stained red and it burned her eyes. So, she quickly closed them once again.

“Never been better,” and though his voice was rough, she could tell he absolutely meant what he said. What a strange man, Lamia thought.

“Good on you, love,” Then, she yelled out with her eyes squeezed tight, “Iggy, PLEASE tell me you can magically make this all go away.”

She did not receive an answer. Fuck that kid and his stupid magic.

* * *

It was hard to walk the city streets covered in blood. Raised _a lot_ of eyebrows. There was only so much a bunch of rags could do to clean you off after that gods awful fight. Thankfully, it also meant absolutely no one would want to talk to you. Though they suffered more bruises than anything else, Viv keeping everyone patched up throughout the thick of it, the group was overcome with exhaustion.

They decided they would return in the morning to find their things.

Viv was able to pour water over Lamia’s eyes to flush them out, so at least she got to see the absolutely riotous image the group of eight made as they walked back to the old inn. Some of the city guard tried to stop them, but Guwen looked like she was about the start retching in the streets. Lamia and Yao were able to string together half-baked excuses as they rushed her down the street.

That’s when they all realized they would need to be quick in order to get into the baths before they shut down for the night. “Was it really that late?” Guwen asked, dazed.

The answer: apparently, yes. The whole party came onto a reserve of energy as they made a mad dash to cleanse themselves of an entire day’s worth of gore.

The bathhouse attendant took one look at the swarm of disgusting travelers and had that look about her that suggested she was thinking ‘Not again.’ Lamia almost felt sorry, except she was too busy practically throwing coin at the attendant to let her in.

It took them hours to wash up. Literally hours. The damn baths were absolutely meant to be closed at this point, yet not a single worker confronted them. At the very least, Lamia was able to make much better headway with clean up than the last time she tried this with Thorgo. Viv scrubbed at her back efficiently, and Lamia did the same for her. It was wonderful.

The warm bathwater felt like heaven. The four women soaked for a good, long while.

Eventually, Guwen caught her attention by breaking the silence with a soft, “Uhm, Lamia?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t need to answer this if you do not wish to, I would never force you to, you know,” the princess rambled on a bit.

“Yeeessss?” Lamia finally gave the princess her full attention.

“Are you and Thorgo…” she looked off to the side, her long black hair drenched and framing her face.

“Fucking?” Lamia supplied.

Viv rolled her eyes while Yao cleared her throat. Guwen, on the other hand, drawled out a, “Nooooo. Well...”

Lamia barked out a laugh. Last year, the mercenary would have never guessed she would be gossiping with the princess like this. “We’re together, I guess.”

“Oh, good, otherwise I would have had to ask him to be more polite in your company,” Guwen seemed to sigh out the last bit.

“Excuse me?”

Viv scoffed, sounding disgusted. “You’re lucky you were momentarily blind; I certainly wish I was.”

Lamia silently mouthed ‘what the fuck?’ before she turned to Yao. The swordswoman was decidedly not going to look at her.

“He got, uhm,” Guwen tried to form a sentence. It did not appear to be working in her favor. “He was very excited at the end. Of the battle. He would not stop staring at you, and I was a little afraid he would… do something.”

Oh. “Ew,” Lamia finally said. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“I told you he was a bastard,” Viv said in that all-knowing way of hers.

“Well, whatever, he’s my bastard,” Lamia started to say, but Guwen made a little ‘aww’ sound that made the mercenary shup up in embarrassment.

“That’s… sweet, I suppose, coming from you, Lamia.” Yao said. “Please tell him to never do it again.”

“I can promise nothing,” Lamia replied sagely and received a splash of water in her face, courtesy of Viv. “Alright, alright! Well, tell me about how awful it’s been traveling with Iggy and Markus for two weeks.”

They spent a long while chatting in the baths until their hands became little more than shriveled up digits. When the four of them finally left the bathhouse, the city was well and truly asleep.

“We really spent the entire day in that gods’ forsaken mansion,” Lamia realized.

“We can use tomorrow to rest before we make plans to move on,” said Yao.

Viv mumbled something about needing a drink as Lamia stretched high and happily said, “That sounds great!”

* * *

Thorgo woke up with a start when Lamia opened the door. She smiled apologetically his way, whispering to him, “Sorry, go back to sleep.”

“No, it’s fine,” his earrings jingled as his ears twitched. “I’m awake… Have you been in the bathhouse this entire time?” He peeked out the tiny window this room offered, seeing the pitch-black night.

Lamia grabbed at the cleanest clothes she could find and got to changing out of her city clothes. “Yeah, we kind of chewed the fat for a while.” Thorgo hummed, then seemed to settle down again. The intensity of his gaze on her bruised body only reminded her of Guwen’s words.

“I guess everyone knows about us, thanks to you,” she teased.

Thorgo had the decency to look sheepish. His ears tilted downward. “Yeah, sorry.” Then, he added as way of explanation, “It was just… the fight and the smells and the sight of you just stabbing that thing right in the heart with your eyes closed. I lost my cool, just a little.” No matter the fact he was trying to apologize, Lamia saw that as he recalled the fight his breathing grew the slightest bit ragged.

“Just a little, huh?”

He gave her his full attention, speaking in a tone that was unabashedly sincere. “You were just so beautiful. I wanted to fuck you very badly.”

It was Lamia’s turn to look away in embarrassment. She had stopped changing into her sleep clothes sometime between the drop of her shirt and bra. Her hands itched to keep undressing.

“You are… so good at that,” she whispered. She received a curious expression from the reclining warrior. “You are really, really good at making me do what you want.”

Thorgo sat up a little, interest apparent. “I tend to find that our interests align more often than not.”

“What a charmer,” Lamia sighed, and began to untie her pants.

* * *

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lamia’s naked back was pressed firmly against her lover’s chest. She sat neatly on his lap as he let his left hand roam over her sore body, kissing lightly at the top of her head, while he watched his right hand fuck into her. They had been going at this for a while, but Lamia kept Thorgo patient with the promise of more.

She rubbed her hands over his arms, massaging his skin and playing with the feel of the odd texture. His tail was wrapped around one of her thighs, while the hand not busy between her legs felt up any bit of skin he could. The muscles in her legs tensed as he added in a fourth finger. A sigh escaped her as she started to ride his fingers. Thankfully, the glide made easy after a long while of teasing exploration.

“ _Oh_ ,” she whimpered out, as her orgasm finally hit. Thorgo pressed his cheek against the top of her head, apparently enjoying the sounds and feeling of her cunt wrapped tight around his fingers.

She pushed his hand away when it became too much. “You better not be drooling on me,” she warned him.

He didn’t say anything coherent; only a bemused grunt reached Lamia’s ears. She played with the bristly end of his tail, hoping it would release her soon. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to fuck me on the bed without breaking it?”

“… try my best,” was his mumbled reply as he gave her another kiss, this time at the tip of her ear. His tail finally unwound, and Lamia groaned as her tired body retaliated against her movements to get up. She was definitely pushing it tonight.

She laid on her back over the side of the bed, her legs hanging limply over the edge. All Thorgo had to do was rise to his knees and he was positioned directly in front of her.

“Be gentle, ok? I’m serious.” Thorgo ran his hands up and down her sides a few times, not seeming to pay attention to her warning, but considering just how he planned to have his wicked way with her. “Hey! Hey, I’m serious,” she whispered urgently, pinching at his hand as he pushed between her legs demandingly.

“Yes, love,” he said as he hiked up her legs along his torso. She shut up at the term of endearment coming from him, the tiniest blush spreading over her cheeks as she felt him lazily thrust his hips forward.

The tip of his dick caught on her entrance, then slipped upwards and against her folds. He repeated this over and over, as if just the sight was enough for him. Lamia watched as his eyes traveled her body. When they finally caught her own gaze, she gave him a little smile.

“It’s okay, you can put it in.”

That seemed to be what he needed to hear because the next thrust of his hips was aimed true; the harsh snap of his hips sending his dick past her entrance. He bucked in, reaching deeper into her by the inch. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth when his hips finally met the backs of her thighs.

For her part, Lamia tried desperately to stay composed. She kept a hand clasped tightly over her mouth as he tried to fuck deeper and deeper within her. The bed groaned beneath her as he crouched low over her body.

She vaguely noticed his tail thrashing wildly behind him. He must be having a great time, Lamia thought.

He settled flush against her hips for perhaps a second before his body demanded to fuck into her. He made a deep, guttural sound as his hips stuttered into a steady pace. Thorgo kept her legs spread for him, happily forgetting everything except for the pleasure of her warm embrace.

“Wanted. This. For. So. Long,” he spoke with every thrust of his hips. His words were terribly slurred, and Lamia had a hard time paying attention. She was very busy trying to formulate a thought in her own head, as it were.

As if stuck on repeat, she chanted his name, trying to get his attention but forgetting what she was trying to tell him in the same instance. The slapping of skin on skin fell in time with the creaking of the bed post, and the jewelry still on him jangled away. Inwardly, Lamia asked for forgiveness from their neighbors.

She felt the slightest dribble of something on her chest. Lamia opened her eyes, only to be greeted with the sight of Thorgo watching her bouncing tits from above like a hawk. A line of drool plopped from the length of his tongue.

“Oh, gods, you’re d-,“ Lamia started to stutter as her body bounced on Thorgo’s dick. “You’re d-drooling a-again.” She meant to be mad at him, but somehow that didn’t register with her body, as it merely tightened its hold lovingly around Thorgo’s length. He responded with a throaty moan, his nose inhaling and exhaling air quickly.

Eventually, his dick was so thoroughly coated that he could slide in and out with ease. It made the desperate thrust of his hips faster and louder. Lamia’s ears were assaulted by the bed’s creaking and cracking into the wall beside it with every single punishing thrust. They were being far, far too loud.

Lamia scraped her nails against any bit of him she could reach, her eyes rolling back briefly at the pace. “Oh, gods, oh, gods,” she whined. She had to get off of this bed before they woke up the entire inn. Throwing her arms up in the air, Lamia tried to grab his upper arms to bring him closer. Thorgo bent forward a little at her beckoning, but it was clearly an automatic response.

It was, thankfully, just enough for Lamia to grab hold of his neck and hoist herself up. She desperately placed kisses on his sternum, his neck, his jaw, his cheek. Finally, she placed a heated kiss to his lips, and her reward was a sloppy swipe of his tongue before he plunged it into her mouth. He straightened his back, pulling Lamia with him, and now she was forced away from his penetrating kiss by gravity. As she sunk back down on him, she could barely hold in a garbled moan. The new position was brutal on her thighs, though they locked around him just the same.

He used her like a toy as he used his steady grip on her hips to push her up and down. It was only a matter of a few more thrusts before Lamia’s muscles rippled in euphoria.

“ _Fuck_.” She felt like she was about to cry. Her body ached and her head spun from the exertion. “ _Oh, shit, Thorgo_.”

Her walls milked Thorgo, pleading with him to cum. Of course, there was little else he could do but oblige her. He sunk her down as far as she would go. He pushed and pushed and kept her cunt firmly wrapped around his twitching dick. The warrior was surprisingly quiet as he pushed shot after shot of cum inside her. If anything, he looked for all the world like his sole focus was filling her up.

She barely had the energy to remain upright in his arms, her hands clasped weakly over his shoulders. It felt like forever. There was definitely a mess running down his thighs, as there was no possible way it was all staying inside, Lamia thought.

She hoped, a little belatedly, that he couldn’t get her pregnant.

When finally, _finally_ , he emptied his balls, he gently shifted his body back to the floor. His actions looked like they were entirely on auto-pilot.

Lamia watched his sleepy face with a quirk of her eyebrow as he popped out of her abused cunt and reclined back on his makeshift bedding. She was pressed firmly against him, stomach-to-stomach, while he arranged his arms to wrap snugly around her. Pressing the sweetest kiss to the top of her head, he almost immediately fell into a dead sleep.

Lamia laid there—cozy and warm against his high temp body—wondering how she was going to manage to sneak out of this to clean up.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

* * *

The next afternoon, Lamia was resting her head within the crook of her arm at an empty tavern table. It was perhaps a little too early to be drinking, but one look at the mercenary was all the barkeep needed to silently slide her a mug of something alcoholic.

She ached. Everywhere.

The scraping of chair legs against the floorboards greeted her. She tilted her head to the side to peek at the intruder, only to be met with Phoenix’s serious face.

“You look awful,” was how he greeted her.

“Thanks, Phoenix.” She turned her face back into the crook of her arm.

He cleared his throat. Lamia was almost certain she felt the bouncing of his leg. He must be anxious as hell, she thought.

“Are you… alright?” he finally asked, after apparently sweating it out for a while.

“I’m just peachy keen,” said Lamia.

More silence. It seemed like he was really trying his best, but then he asked in a serious whisper,” Did he hurt you?”

Lamia sighed, dragging her head up from its cozy nest and straightening up with a pop of her back. “No, I’m just being dramatic. I suppose we weren’t very quiet, huh?”

“It was… certainly something,” he looked unbearably warm.

“Soorrrryy,” Lamia drawled, though really. She wasn’t. At all. She looked down at the pack Phoenix set down by his feet. She caught the glint of a damaged, metal helmet poking out. Interesting, she thought.

Phoenix pressed his lips together before he said, “I was worried at the beginning. I thought he was… coercing you.”

Lamia laughed. “Him? Coercing me?”

“He has not been subtle about his intentions, not even from day one.”

Lamia almost said, ‘Neither have I’ but decided against it. This already seemed like it was rough on the old guy. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

Phoenix nodded. “Yes, you can. You’ve been on the team for far longer than I have. Though you are younger, your skills are obvious.”

“Aw, Phoenix, are you complimenting me?” Lamia seemed beside herself, if not taking a little bit of a teasing tone.

“Yes. Have I not complimented you before?” he asked, completely serious if not a little confused.

She merely sighed. “So, what brings you here?”

Phoenix shifted in his seat. “I just returned from the market district, but earlier this morning I was assisting Ignaceus and Markus in retrieving our things from the mansion. It… did not go as planned.”

“What,” Lamia paused, “does that mean?”

“The mansion was gone, just a derelict home where it once was.” He shook his head, as if he could hardly believe what he said himself.

Lamia had to consciously control the volume with which she said, “ _What about our stuff?_ ”

Phoenix almost, _almost_ , looked like he was about to roll his eyes at her. Instead, his jaw clenched, “Our bags were found in a storage room. Although some things had obviously been gone through, it looked like the majority of our baggage was untouched.” He took a breath. ‘Just- it looked like a completely different building—inside and out. There were no bodies, no altars, no blood; just a bandit's hideout in the middle of the city.”

“Ahhhh, my cloak,” Lamia looked close to tears, more focused on her own loss than the mansion’s bizarre disappearance. At Phoenix’s noise of confusion, she merely shook her head and whispered, “It’s nothing.”

Phoenix seemed to give up on getting any pearls of wisdom from the group’s mercenary. “Hm. Well, when you return to your room you can look through your things. I had Thorgo’s bag sent up to your room, as well.” Lamia could just make out the thin line of his lips at that last bit.

Lamia grinned. Poor guy, she thought. “Well, thanks for your hard work. What will you be doing with the rest of your day?”

“I suppose I’m free for the remainder. What, exactly, have you been doing with yours?”

She heaved out a sigh. “Thorgo fucks like a beast, so we had to pay off the innkeeper to fix the hole we banged into the wall. Then, Thorgo ran off to “find a buyer for the big stupid boulder-bird”, or whatever the hell that thing was that you fried, but he was just afraid of Viv giving us her death glare when we came downstairs. Now, I’m here in a bar different bar just so I don’t feel her cursing me to an early death.” Lamia took a deep breath.

Phoenix looked overwhelmed, or at least the closest approximation the man could possibly get to.

Lamia squinted off into the distance. “I’m gonna fuck him again tonight. Louder, this time.”

“Please do not,” Phoenix replied immediately. It made Lamia laugh a little.

“Well, alright, you’ve convinced me.” She took a sip of her drink. “I have to admit, I am a little bored all by myself.”

“I might be inclined to keep you company, if you refrain from mentioning the details of your relationship with Thorgo,” Phoenix said in as light of a manner as he was capable.

“Fair enough, old man,” Lamia then turned to the barkeep and asked for a drink for her friend. The rest of her day was decidedly quite nice.

* * *

The party decided they had wasted enough time, and on the morning of their fourth day at Norvern Way they were packed and ready to leave. Viv still wasn’t speaking to the mercenary; she had been in the room just above Thorgo and Lamia for the entire stay. It wasn’t ideal, but Lamia could handle a little cold shoulder, until the little healer started to speak through Phoenix whenever she wanted something from the mercenary.

“Tell the mercenary her gear won’t fit; she needs to carry more,” she said.

“Viv, I swear,” Lamia was ready to pop the woman’s head off.

“Tell the mercenary she needs to learn more vocabulary rather than relying on threats and swearing,” she said.

“I bought you a pack mule! Be nice to me!” Because she did. Buy Viv a pack mule, that is. Technically, it was a purchase made with the rest of their journey in mind, but Viv was seated happily on the young mule’s back like it was her own personal steed.

Thorgo roped Lamia into spending the previous day showing a hunters’ party where the roc carcass was, and so they split the handsome reward evenly between the two. Lamia had never seen so much gold at once in her life, yet Thorgo seemed entirely more interested in her reaction than in the gold itself.

“Alright, that’s enough, you two. Honestly, you’re both acting like children.” Guwen was mostly berating Lamia when she said this.

Lamia continued to stare down Viv. “Why aren’t you being this mean to Thorgo?”

The healer actually looked over at Lamia, mostly to shoot her a disbelieving look. “He is five times my size, girl.” Lamia craned her neck to look up at the warrior beside her.

The mercenary nodded, “Ok, good point.”

Ignaceus and Markus were huddled over the map, not caring particularly over the inane conversations the rest of the group was having. Lamia heard bits of the conversation: “Should be five days to… with good weather…” and “Due south of farmlands… can stock up near…” It was more planning than the mercenary ever put into her travels, but she was all too happy to follow orders and get paid.

Guwen sidled up to Lamia. “Would you be willing to give me more pointers on my archery, Lamia?”

“Of course, Princess!” the mercenary smiled over to her. Guwen listened well, so she made for a decent student. Also, she was technically Lamia’s employer, and it was always good business practice to keep your employer happy. Guwen smiled back, and got to talking good-naturedly about their travel plans. If only everyone on the team were so laidback.

Yao looked out on the horizon. The sun was well on its way to lighting the entirety of the sky. “We must set out soon, if we wish to reach a decent campsite before sundown.”

The group agreed. The maps were rolled up and put away. Viv did a double check on everything attached to the mule’s saddle—and what wasn’t attached was slung over everyone’s backs. Lamia saw, off in the distance, another traveling party heading off on horseback down the eastern route.

Lamia’s group nodded amongst themselves, ready to head out. Markus opened his mouth, ready to proclaim them ready to move out, when Lamia let a noise of surprise.

“That’s mine!” she yelped, mostly to herself. The rest of her group stared at her. “That’s my fucking cloak!”

And, it was. She knew that dark fabric with the faintest décor—it wasn’t a particularly fancy cloak, but it was definitely one-of-a-kind. She spotted it amongst the grays and browns of the other traveling band like a great, big, shining beacon.

“How did you even spot th-,” but Lamia was running off without a second thought to Ignaceus’ words.

“Lamia, I’ll just buy you another one,” Thorgo called after her, his tone like he was speaking to a rambunctious child.

“No! You gave it to me, and it’s mine!” She yelled back, “Go on ahead—I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.”

She was fast, far too fast, and wouldn’t listen to reason. Her travel group watched her retreating back like one would watch a feral animal set loose amongst the livestock. A few sighs escaped more than one mouth.

“I vote we leave without her,” Ignaceus said.

“Seconded,” said Viv.

Phoenix rubbed at his temples, but didn’t say anything.

Markus seemed torn between what to do. It was Guwen who seemed to hammer in the last nail in the coffin.

“The colors on their saddles mean they’re working for the Republic. Isn’t she still wanted dead or alive there?” the princess asked.

It was deathly silent for a few seconds, before Markus called out, “LAMIA!” and began to chase after the stupid mercenary. The rest of the crew could do nothing but follow.

“She could kill the lot of them on her own,” Thorgo tried to remind everyone. Markus wasn’t paying attention.

But, Viv sighed. “It’s fine. What’s another side quest?”


End file.
